


All I want for Christmas

by Noctomata



Series: Crybaby Holliday Specials [2]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Abandonment, Alcohol, Angst, Birthday, Car Accident, Christmas, Christmas Special, Crybaby (fanfiction), Death, Domestic Violence, Flashbacks, Fluff, Forgiveness, Holiday Special, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Non conventional celebrations, Past Issues, Presents, Therapy, Trauma, Yuletide, psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22106995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noctomata/pseuds/Noctomata
Summary: A nine part story with the Crybaby protagonists. (The Crybaby Xmas Special is here!)Christmas Eve will find meWhere the love light gleamsI'll be home for ChristmasIf only in my dreams...Or maybe it'll be nightmares. That will never let me sleep.A double time for someone like Allen who's birthday is the 25. A lot of memories and not precisely holiday cheer, but hey...Isn't this a time for hope? Hope for him to get better, be a dear and leave a wish.Maybe this time a red man with a different kind of suit will leave a present that will last forever.Happy Holidays, Crybabies![S P O I L E R   A L E R T] If you haven't finish Crybaby, this special will spoil you the end.
Relationships: Lavi/Allen Walker
Series: Crybaby Holliday Specials [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1532924
Comments: 17
Kudos: 9





	1. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood memories aren't always the best.
> 
> Baby, it's cold outside, but it doesn't mater.  
> A precious stone that is soft. A subway ride and a patient man with a white moustache. 
> 
> Timcanpy is here as well. 
> 
> [A special warning for hurt/comfort/angst.]

A diamond in the snow.

The headlights of the passing cars gave it away. Rainbow shooting out for an avid eye to rescue it from the cold. Allen pulled the hand that he was holding. A gigantic palm that wasn’t warm and had an asperity that enclosed some familiarity; a single gold band around the ring finger. A voice said something, but he didn’t understand. All he wanted was to touch the diamond that moved softly with the wind in that winter evening.

Back then he didn’t like winter. The sun hid quickly, and the time lost its purpose; evening and night merging in a black nothing that only meant going early to bed. And since he couldn’t sleep because his body told him there w ere still hours of the day left, he was caged in his room with his animal plushies and toys that seemed to move in the darkness, waiting for him to close his eyes. Or perhaps the dreadful spirit that lived behind the curtain of his window would be the one that would eat him alive. An accomplice of the monster under his bed that was probably a dead man, like the one he once saw in a horror movie by accident, when he tried to seek comfort  of his parent because the door of his closet moved on its own again.

“ _There is nothing there. I told you before. Did you wake me up_ _ **just**_ _for_ _ **this?”**_

His parents…

A green bottle of Ralph Laurent. Red lips. The sound of heeled shoes down the stairs. That gold band that propagated the metallic smell all over that hand. 

The diamond wasn’t one.

It was a white, iridescent ribbon. Why was it on the floor? 

He picked it up. It was cold and it bent with every brush of the wind like a sad flower. Allen wondered how anybody could drop something that beautiful and just forget it there, like it didn’t matter. He had never seen another bow like that before. He examined with both hands, not realizing he let go off the one that belong to…his father? Details…details were hazy. Strange.

The winter air threatened to sweep him away together with his finding and then, he turned looking for the person who was supposed to take care of him. Ready to keep going. Christmas right around the corner.

But there was none.

Evening-night was already there with its dark arms, wrapping everything with the sense of being in a large, almost infinite box. Were they a present for a cruel god that thought of humans as mere toys? A bizarre thought to have. He was alone.

Fear didn’t hit immediately, but confusion did. Back then feelings were watered down by comprehension and not repression. Surely, if his father wasn’t right behind him,  but  he was nearby… Wasn’t he? 

A few steps back, following his movements. Life was strange when you are used to stare at the floor, but he never thought of looking up. People wasn’t exactly his field of interest. He liked flowers, cracks on the floor that were probably secret consequences of an underground miniature cities; small animals, like lizards or butterflies, with wonderful colors that seemed to exist only in them. Foiled treasures that moved with mystical thoughts, their understanding granted only to the worthy pure hearted persons that loved them. He liked the forgotten treasures people left behind like shining envelopes, lost pennies or even sometimes broken pieces of jewelry that he took with a faint idea of repairing. 

Up, with the faces, there wasn’t anything but bad things that made him nervous. Eyes that were critical of things that he didn’t understand. Mouths that twisted with disapproval at every single movement. Unfamiliar attributes that only left him feeling dizzy and cold with an icy water that ran inside him. Voices that said things that didn’t make any sense, but that carried a tone he would recognize his whole life.

Up, was the world of the adults. Where there was no art. No stories. No beauty. No  _love_ . Work and punishment. Obligations and sorrow.  _Misery,_ if he would know the word back then.

Higher than that was the sky, but Allen wasn’t sure he was supposed to look at it. Did he deserve it even if he was a bad kid? Clouds were nice, yet a privilege. London never had the best clear skies to admire one thing or the other. So maybe, he wasn’t allowed to see them. The adult that handled the weather knowing he was bad and never granting him a starry night.

Peculiar thoughts that were a blend of then and now.

Nevertheless, that time, with the ribbon, he looked up. And there wasn’t a face he could recognize. 

He was five. 

And the fear began like a dropped marble. It fell from his mouth to his throat and traveled quick like a ceramic cup that you want to grab before it touches the floor but is too fast for you. As if it obeys other kind of physics laws than the ones  that  bind you. Gravity favoring its ventures. 

When it reached his stomach, it was cold and had the tingling feeling of a numb foot that was trying to be moved. It expanded, like ink over water. The marble-pill exploded extending its acidic juice to mix with his bowels and it fabricated a plug on the upper part of his larynx; so he couldn’t escape the feel. Trapping him from inside.

Allen swallowed the dryness and tried to wet his lips as he started to breathe fast. How did his parents look like? He surely could remember that… right?

His mother. His mother wasn’t very tall. She used her hair short and had plenty, it was…black? Brown?  Chestnut. Maybe. Oh, but she had red lips! Red lips that smelled like makeup and mint. She used pink blush over her cheeks and smiled like people in the posters. Sometimes she smelled like coffee. Or perfume. It was floral and it came from a heavy crystal bottle. It was yellow, but the box was red. The cap was like blurred glass and it felt soft but not as clean as the rest of the bottle. He couldn’t pronounce the name. It meant nothing for him, just black letters over yellow liquid. 

She was wearing…a blue? Green? Red? He couldn’t recall. It was a velvet dress. He remembered how it felt touching it. Like a short haired cat. It was pretty. He liked that.

What else? She used gold earrings. Hoops, where he liked to put his hand. And… that was all.

His father then…he...he had gray eyes. But not like his. His were cold and distant, but when he smiled small wrinkles appeared in the corner, transforming him in a different person. The kind of person that would give him a chocolate or that would pet his head. He shaved regularly. A day that he skipped, and his cheeks were already itchy. Sometimes, when he was in the best of the moods, he would rub his unshaved face against his soft skin making him laugh. His voice reverberated in his chest when he talked softly, and he was the one that held his hand when he walked over fences or sidewalks balancing. One foot and then the other. He had short hair and…used a black? Or blue coat. His shoes were black. Slim shoelaces that were a signature of adult shoes. Nothing like Velcro or sparkling laces with chunky points. 

People said he looked a lot like his mother, but she always said it was because people look each other in the eyes at first and they shared the shape and the eyelashes. Everything else was like his father. Or that’s what she said. Allen couldn’t remember that now. Their shapes an abstract concept of points and details in the darkness that made a modern art piece instead of a portrait.

What he recalled were hushed conversations and half-closed doors. Harsh grabbing and cold words that hit with a fiery touch.

“ _Why are you crying? Do you want a reason to cry? I’ll give you one.” “I didn’t hear someone saying your name. Did you? Then why are you talking to the adults?” “This is going to hurt me more than you, do you know that?”_

But how? How was that possible? His face was looking back at him. He was biting his lip and he barely had the necessary height to see himself in the mirror of his mother’s vanity. It was green and black. A thousand bottles and crystal ornaments in it that were expensive, and he never dare to touch. The tears stained his red cheeks and a frown made him look angry, but he was just trying not to keep crying; afraid that she would hit him again. The noise that he made when he did something his mother couldn’t stand. He couldn’t remember now what he did, but he remember vividly the sensation of being someone else. He nodded and let her hug him without moving. It didn’t matter what he did. 

Allen didn’t notice as a child, but now, reliving that, he saw that whenever his father didn’t feel like it, he would ignore him or scream at him out of nowhere, but maybe he deserved it. Didn’t he? 

Again, the ribbon moved in his hand. Maybe if he walked a little farther, he would find them. They would scold them. Maybe even punish him or hit him but…They were his parents and that was ok. Wasn’t it?

Short steps from shorter legs. He tried to move fast as the night was almost there. What time it was? He couldn’t know. He didn’t know how to read a clock. The cold air burned his nostrils. Squashed his lungs.

A staircase appeared in front of him like a revelation and he decided that that was the only logical path his parents could have taken that made them disappear. Going down with careful movements, holding the bow with sweaty hands that tried their best not to crush it, as if it was a living bird and not a piece of a discarded present that was closer to trash than anything else. A crowd took him down and inside the subway with the speed of the last-minute shopping, crushing him against the door that would not open in that journey of theirs. They didn’t notice him or didn’t care. Pushing, grabbing, yapping. Strangers from the land of the adults up high near the sky that never looked down to the ground, where lizards and flowers and ribbons were. 

Where Allen was. 

A piercing sound that had a congested and nasal undertone; an alarm with a cold that was far from getting better. Runny nose of a speaker that was beyond his sight.

Stampedes that guided a batch of strangers out but didn’t return the two adults he lost in. He tried to hold to a silver post to not be dragged, and even when he tried too to hold to that snow diamond that was his ribbon, it was abducted by the grownups. Robbing him from the only pretty thing that was lighting his path among that horrible darkness that winter brought. The one that meant being lost.

Station by station people disappeared, letting him breathe again and allowing him to move. Twin windows on those automatic doors that offered him landscapes he didn’t recognize. 

As the train got empty, he wandered out of his corner and let go the pole that saved him from the human waves. His lips now red as he bit on them the moment his bow got snatched away, leaving him afraid.

Soon, there was no other sound but the soft murmur of the machine working, the car deserted with blue seats that felt sad and tired. A man with long, red hair in a ponytail was sitting on the farthest end of the row. His leg crossed as he read a book, apparently unaware of how alone the place got. Allen observed him and if he noticed him, he made no attempt to make it obvious. He was really tall and wore black trousers and long, over the knee boots. A white shirt with linear folds that was long sleeved. Everything as clean as freshly new clothes. He had a chain around his neck that now, Allen recognized as a rosary. 

The frameless glasses slid down his nose and as he sat beside him without making a noise looking for some kindness, he offered him a look that lasted a second. Making him not be sure if it happened or not. Allen tried to read the book, knowing that he could, as he was old enough to do so; but it didn’t matter how hard he tried it just really didn’t make any sense. It was gibberish. It was…

-Didn’t your parents tell you not to be a  nosy brat and stay out of other’s people business? -His voice was terribly loud in that forlorn place and Allen flinched immediately looking at his own hands, sitting right. 

“ _Back straight. Feet together. Don’t crouch like that! Hair away from the face, you look like a loony!”_

-Yes. I’m sorry, sir. -It was hard to know if he listened him. The subway coughing as it moved to the end of the tracks, like a monster that tried to push them out of their stomach. Tired and wishing for rest among its race. “ _Get out of my belly! Get out and let me rest!”_ A hundred of its pairs already sleeping at the rails. Closed windows like closed eyes. It was the end of the trip.

-Are you alone? Where are your parents? -The way Cross spoke back then didn’t hold any significance but now, that he knew him, Allen recognized the disdain. 

The man never liked children and founding one lost at the subway on Christmas Eve / Christmas morning surely was a nuisance he was more than upset to deal with.

-I…I don’t know. -And he didn’t. By then he thought he was only lost, and he would help him…but life wasn’t that easy with him. And it wouldn’t be, until a lot of years had passed. 

“ _A penitence to earn a piece of heaven.”_

-Ok. -He closed his book and bent a little to see his face. A look down to the world that nobody cared  about . -What is your name? –

-My name is…-

  
  


- _**Allen** _ ! –

Someone gasped loudly and after breathing he realized it was him. Horrible cold at his back that munched through the clothes, like a thousand needles over his hopeless skin. He sat quickly on the bed as the voice called him, hitting his forehead against something; his eyes afraid to close again, but hurting with the low light of the place.

-Hey, hey it’s me. Are you ok, Snowflake? -A hand that tightly held his arm, the fingers gently pressed even in that strength. 

- _Wha_ …what? -Some lost saliva that decided to go down at its own terms, making him gulp involuntarily, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He grabbed that person by the shoulders, his hands curling into fists as he held his clothes; his body looking for a lifeline to grab and survive. But then…Golden and green. “ _**Home.”** _ -Lavi? –

-Hi beautiful. -A smile that was made of love, but a frown poisoned by worry. -Are you ok? You were moving a lot and whimpering and…I think you had a nightmare. -His other hand was rubbing his forehead, letting him deduce that the thing he bumped his head with, was him. 

-A…a nightmare. -The silver haired repeated, blinking and touching his boyfriend to make sure he was really there. His stare fixed on a painting Lavi had at the wall near the entrance, unable to move it away.

-My Love? Hey, look at me. -He touched his face and slowly, Allen turned his eyes to him again. Breathing finding its rhythm.

_In. Out. In. Out._

-Lavi…-His tender smile in response of his name, that brought back the sensation of being safe. Of feeling at home. Warmth and sweet. Cocoa filled with marshmallows in a winter night while they watched a movie. Allen’s hands were quivering now, but he still tangled his fingers in his copper hair. -Kiss me. Please.  _Please, kiss me._ –

A prayer for the hell to end.

-You don’t have to ask, my Light. -The only way he was willing to close his eyes then. Feeling him, recognizing his taste, the way he moved. How his lips drew a smile right before opening for him.

“ _You are not a child anymore.”_

-Don’t leave me. -He whispered as he pulled the tallest down to the bed, his weight a security blanket that reminded him what was real. What was happening.

“ _He is here. With you.”_

- _**Never.** _ -Lavi kissed him until it was hard to breathe, pulling back only to see his eyes. Tears starting to fall again from his own. 

-I  _hate_ therapy. -Allen mumbled, tired and trying to stop his silent crying. 

-I know. -The redhead sighed. He understood how Allen felt. Therapy was a slow and painful process where everything you tried to forget resurged with a disgusting and horrible precision. New details, new sensations that weren’t new at all but that you overlooked. Moments that, like wine, just got a stronger taste that was now easier to identify. An after taste of regret, pain and despair. Yet, a necessary evil. A thing that he had to endure in order to get better. -I know, baby. But try to hang on, yes? I know its hard. I know its awful. But I’ll be here for you. Bak and Wisely will be as well. Lenalee will be here with you too. –

A bump of a soft something on his arm made Lavi smile again, making him raise his arm to allow the newcomer space. A striped furry head with triangular ears leading the way for a pair of yellow eyes that had a cute concern that animals carry with them for their loved human family.

-Timcanpy? –

-Tim will be here as well. See? -The cat purred loudly and after sniffing the bridge of his nose and licking one tear, he let himself fall at the side of his head; his body with that property similar to liquids that only cats have, molding against him. The vibration of his happiness helping him feel better. -You are not alone, Allen. We all be here for you. We love you.  **I love you** . More than I can tell, my beautiful, gorgeous, precious Snowflake. –

Exchanged looks. Deep sighs.

-I dreamed I was five. -He told him, letting Lavi pet his hair, pushing back the sweaty strands that stuck to his face. He wasn’t looking him now in the eyes and Allen was grateful for that small allowance of freedom. That way, he wouldn’t have to concentrate in saying what he thought it was right, but only the truth. -I was in the street…it was Christmas Eve…My…my parents they…-Allen found his eyes again and his lower lip started shaking as he recalled the rest. -They left me there. On a street. Like I was an unwanted pet. I picked up a bow that someone dropped and when I turned…they were gone. My stepfather…Cross…He…He found me in the subway and tried to get me back to my house but…they left me; you know? There was no trace of them, and he couldn’t go to the police because he is…well Cross. -Lavi nodded, listening and trying not to let his horrified feelings out in his face. Frowning in concentration. -So he took me in. He named me. I…I don’t even remember what my name was, isn’t that stupid? –

The silver haired laughed without glee. It was only a sour contempt of something that upset him but had no solution. What was done was done.

-No, it’s not…-

-Was I such a terrible kid? My mother used to tell me that if I wasn’t helping, I shouldn’t be a hindrance. I guess I’m not one for her anymore. I can’t remember her face, but I do remember her voice when she was upset with me. For my father I wasn’t more than a mere toy and then…for Cross I was a tool. A  _get out of jail free_ card. Some easy cash. A…a…a prosti…- Hiccups that cut through the words. A crying that he tried to stop as he was starting to get angry with himself.

What difference did it make if he cried? Did it change anything? Will it make things better? Will the past be erased by some miserable tears of such a miserable brat? 

The redhead held him to change places, putting him on top and forcing Tim to give some steps away, still lying on their pillows. His soft paws brushing his own small head. Lavi let Allen curl against his chest and hear his steady heart, the only unbreakable pillar that held his life together allowing him to calm, at least a little.

-You are nothing of that, Allen. You are wonderful. You are beautiful. You are an artist; the most talented person I ever met. You are my sun and my stars. My only and dear love. You are really smart and gifted and every day I spend beside you is a blessing I will never be able to fully repay to you. You are not what those people made you believe. Nor your parents. Nor Cross. Not even Kanda.  _You are you_ . It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember what you were called.  **Allen** is your name now and I’ll call for you the times that are necessary for you to remember it with my voice. The times that you need for it to settle as part of  _us_ and not of  _them_ . –

Allen wanted to stop and a part of him wanted to keep crying, so he compromised. Closing his eyes once again; feeling safe being held by that marvelous man that somehow, loved him knowing everything that he was. Letting him run a hand over his back, just like that first time with the first nightmare.

Until he fell asleep again.

  
  


-It’s ok if you don’t like Christmas, Allen. Not everyone is up to the celebration and there is nothing wrong about it. –

Kevin Yeegar was a polite and nice man. His voice was something Allen liked very much, his tones like the ones of a patient professor that has nothing but love for his students. It was this trait together with his gentle eyes and subtle movements what convinced him to have him as his therapist. The recommendation of Lenalee only an extra to his opinion. 

The first time he visited him, Bak parked outside and waited all the hour for him there, ready to open the door of his Porsche if he ever got uncomfortable. Another time it was Wisely, who pick him up with two coffees and an invitation to his apartment to either talk about it or discuss about movies, whatever he wanted fine and welcomed. From there onward either was Lenalee or Lavi; he the one that accompany him to the door of his therapist, to the point of greeting him and waiting sitting outside the place. 

Like then.

Maybe some people would think of that as childish. But for him…it meant the world.

-I don’t know. Everyone seems to love Christmas. Every place is full of Santa Clause figures or snowmen or reindeer and red stuff and those carols that all seem the same one, repeated in a loop. I feel like I am the…-

-The  Grinch ? -A laugh that reminded him of an owl appeared and the older man let down the diary where he wrote whatever psychiatrists wrote in their sessions with troubled people like him. -That’s a normal perception. I understand that Christmas was also when your parents left you and your stepfather took you in. It’s no surprise you aren’t keen to it. –

-Yes. -It was harder hearing it from other person’s mouth. On a side it sounded more horrible, like his life was some sort of tragic novel written by a tired old man that only wanted to reflect his alcoholic regrets through an unfortunate character. But on the other…it sounded absurd. Was he making a drama out of nothing? It wasn’t that bad, was it? His parents didn’t like him for whatever reasons (His hair, his arm, his temperament…) and then a stranger with some… _questionable_ habits picked him up and gave him a home (one that had alcohol, sex and bets…among control.) and he was nice with him. He gave him food and a roof and some clothes. He taught him to mix drinks and that was mainly why he got his job…He could even say that maybe he loved him. After all, he  _did_ take care of him when his parents  _abandoned_ him. Didn’t he?

-Allen. -He raised his eyes to face him and the old therapist smiled at him gently. His  mustache moving with it. -Tell me, you said you had a cat? What’s its name? –

-Timcanpy. -His answers were a faint whisper, so he cleared his throat to repeat it. -Timcanpy. It’s a male. He is adopted. Like…like me. –It was a strange change of subject.

-That’s a nice name. Is he a kitten or an adult cat? -Allen squirmed in his seat, trying to detect a trap that wasn’t there. 

-An adult. He is four. I picked him up after I left my stepfather’s place. He was in a box at the street and it was raining…I couldn’t leave him there. He was so small…- 

Yeegar wrote something that made Allen feel like he screwed an answer and the man was writing how dumb he was, but he made no comment. Apprehensively looking at the door and trying to remember that his boyfriend was out there. Ready to shield him if he needed any help or felt that he wanted to run. 

-Is he a bad cat? Do you love him? -The man wasn’t looking at him and the shortest took a moment to observe him in the middle of his sudden anger. He wore navy trousers as well as a same colored shirt. His patternless socks showed as he crossed his leg, black shoes perfectly tied. Over his outfit he wore a brown coat with long blue and white stripes, a discreet checkered print on the wool. His hair was all white and he kept it loose except for a black circlet that crossed his forehead. Everything with a neatness that held a superiority air to it.

- _Of course not_ . I love him a lot. Even if he was anything beside the  _best cat in the world_ , I would love him. -Kevin Yeegar kept his attention on his notebook; his eyebrows raising a little with his answer, but nothing more that would testify of his interest. 

-Hm. But you don’t know why he was on that box. Maybe he was a bad cat before you picked him up. Maybe he scratched the drapes and pissed the carpet. Or scratched his owner and bit them. Maybe even broke everything he could, leaving that poor person without any dishes. –

- _**What?** _ -For some reason, the youngest felt every word as a personal attack. Why did he had to talk like that about Timcanpy? He was his  _only_ friend when he left Cross’s and the only one that heard him when he was alone and needed to talk but didn’t want to bother anyone! He was the  **best** cat! -Timcanpy could  _never_ do that! He is a  **great** cat.  _**The best cat.** _ He  _never_ had done  _anything_ like that. And even if he did, what with it?! He is a cat! The person that left him was supposed to take care of him, of loving him, not to condition his stay like it was some cheap hotel! He was their responsibility! It wasn’t his fault! They…they…- 

His smile had understanding and mercy, bringing the tears back.

“ _Oh.”_

-It…wasn’t…it wasn’t  _**my** _ fault? -His hands were shuddering again, and he saw them trembling as the tears fell like pearls rolling down on a kitchen floor. Snapped out of some lady’s expensive necklace. 

“ _Maybe your mom’s”_

-No, my dear boy. It wasn’t your fault. It doesn’t matter what a child does. It’s a child and their parents are supposed to look after them. And about Cross…I think we can get on that on another session. What do you think? -He nodded, not even trying to clean his face. -And about Christmas, I’m sure that if you talk with Lavi he will have no problem in skipping it as long as you feel better. A festivity means nothing if the persons involved have no good feelings about it. It only transforms into a tradition that gets tainted with sorrow. You don’t have to be part of something you don’t like, Allen. And that’s fine. You are free to do as you want. –

“ _Free. What a concept. It sounds strange. Free? Does it mean something? Being free. You are free.”_

Allen stepped out the office still looking at his hands. He vaguely noticed Lavi speaking with his therapist and soon enough, the door was closed again.

“ _Free? What does that mean? It tastes weird.”_

-How was it today, Snowflake? Do you want to get a coffee? A cake? Maybe we can go grab a bite and then I heard there is an ice rink near the Ark, if you want to, we can…-Lavi got out of words as the reason for his life tackled him with a hug, squeezing his soul out. He counted the seconds, happy for the touch but worried about him. -Babe? -

-Yes. I would like that very much. -He buried his face on his chest and the redhead patted his back, letting him do. -I love you, Lavi. I love you a lot. –

-I love you too, gorgeous. -A kiss on his temple.

“ _Free to be with you. Free…to be with myself. I’m not what they made me. I am…”_

-Allen. –

A smile brighter than the sun.

“ _With you, I am_ _ **myself**_ _.”_

-Yes. –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Crybabies! Did you miss me? Happy 2020 and happy holidays!
> 
> I'm sorry I missed so much my deadline, but tbh xmas season isn't precisely my jam. I love eggnog and the smell of pine trees and peppermint but beside that…I don’t really have a nice time. Yet, I hope you did! And received wonderful presents rather you celebrate is as the Christians or not. Beside that I had my eye hurt and I couldn’t open it so I couldn’t write before and I’m sorry but now I’m here again!  
> I brought you this 5k chapter as compensation and, if I can, I will be doing a New Year chapter or such. Something I didn’t have planned for the Holidays Specials.  
> This chapter is not the last time you’ll see something sad (?) so I apologize, like with This Is Halloween, you’ll have to wait a little for things to get better. Still, you know that the little Snowflake ends happily ever after with his one and only handsome Rabbit, so hang in there, please!  
> I love to read your comments, thank you so much for everyone of you that left me a nice word or kudos. I’m flattered to know you still like what I do. Never doubt in reaching to me and if you are too shy, you know you can contact me about whatever in my twitter that has the same name as this account.  
> About this chapter, I have to remark the use of words (such as loony) are not in anyway condoned by me, instead, they are used only to remark how abusive can be someone with things that “do not matter” for them. Like that word.  
> I want to take a moment to mention that if you need help, if you feel in despair, if you feel you have hit rock bottom or are desperate and need a way out, please look for therapy. It’s not beautiful and it’s not easy, but eventually it helps. You will get better. You are better than this. You have always been. You can do this. I love you. I’m proud of you. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope I can read your opinions in the next chapters as always.  
> This chapter was written listening to a lot of songs but this are the ones I payed more attention to(?) : Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran, Ablaze (Piano Version) Friday Fangs, Shadow of the Day, In Pieces both by Linkin Park, Nurse’s Office by Melanie Martinez, Sadnecessary by Milky Chance and of course, Helena in the AOL Sessions by My Chemical Romance and the super nice version by Unlike Pluto. Because I’m still an emo(?) from 2007 and I had to start the year with that song.


	2. The Most Wonderful Time Of the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas morning, a tree, familiar faces and traditions.
> 
> Making cookies with your mom always had certain sense of divinity or secrecy. A promise and a pact aren’t that much different, but if they are made with love there’s nothing that can break them apart.
> 
> “When love ones are near. It's the most wonderful time of the year.”

“ _It’s today!”_

An excited thought that transformed with each repetition into fuel.

“ _IT’S TODAY!!!”_

Rushed steps that may or may not ended in one or twice stumbles in a race with no one but himself to reach the bottom of the stairs.

“ _YES! TODAY!”_

There it was. The goal. The price.  _The treasure_ .

Oh, it truly was the most wonderful time of the year!

Lavi  _loved_ Christmas. 

He loved everything about it. From putting up the tree to the cheerful carols that seemed to be everywhere. As if it was another land unifying the people in a single chorus that said one thing only:  _Christmas is here._

The redhead took a moment to admire his work before launching himself into the pile of presents that awaited for his already tingling hands.

The gigantic pine tree stood in front of him like a castle; its pointy summit shining as it had the sun itself crowning it. He took a breath and even when he was shaking, he walked as calmly as he could to connect the lights to the current; a single click starting the spectacle that only the natural northern lights could compete against. It was still dark, and the little bulbs sleepily gleamed with different colors, each like a yawn of a tiny star that didn’t want to wake up yet.

Red, green, blue and yellow colored his features and Lavi smiled as he observed his reflection on the polished surface of a sphere. Each December sixth, his family and he would gather around a lucky Christmas tree (that at the moment was just a tree, green and naked in a lot of land that barely qualified as a store) and, in the middle of laughs and the most delicious hot chocolate, would put up ornaments that were not only pretty, but also a heirloom that was passed from generation to generation; each member of them, contributing at least one piece that represented them.

“ _When you are older, you can choose your own, Asthore.”_ His mother told him when he asked when would he get his own. Hers was a red sphere that had a little and rounded pink bow on top, with pearl in the middle. Right where the thread joined the piece. It had a wreath made of an intricate gold chain around it. 

The sphere had three flowers. One red, one lilac and one white; little shiny beads in the middle of each, their petals fabricated with ribbon. Between them a white lace that had two more flowers with their leaves, as well as two threads of small diamonds. Just as it ended, in the lower part of the ornament, another jewel looked down, a gentle secret for the small people, like him.

Lavi loved that ornament. And even when it was tradition that his mother put it on a branch he begged and begged until she agreed to let him do it. Every part of her weak to her son’s cuteness. He was always amazed by the different textures and how beautiful it was. He knew it meant something, as the choice mattered and that was why only adults could have them. But he never asked, afraid to interfere with the enchantment that was leaving it to the grownups. One day, when he had grown up too, he would probably ask, but not then. He would wait.

His father had one too, but it was a lot simpler. A red apple with a velvet green leaf. It was pretty, but not that interesting. Not even worth asking, in his opinion. Maybe he was not that imaginative. Maybe he just liked apples. It wasn’t that hard.

The Panda, on the other side, had a glass sphere made by hand. A crystal ring allowed it to be hanged by a golden thread. It slowly came down to a golden ring that morphed into the actual round shape, tainted on top with red and another gold band. The center, as a middle band, was transparent with two gold flowers than he had no clue how anybody managed to fuse with the glass. Their leaves where like brush strokes and it was so perfect that it was unbelievable there was a human hand on earth capable of forging it. At the bottom, the pattern of red and gold repeated, until a twisted crystal stalactite finished it in its clear glory.

This and many other ornaments hung from that tree, some of them he could put, some of them not. But he always placed the treetop, a simple gold star that was drawn in lines like an asterisk. As well, he always helped with the lights on top of his father’s shoulders, waiting for him to spin him around for the preliminary tangle of their bodies before getting serious and actually decorate the tree.

A thing that he supposed one day would be a bit bizarre if he got as tall as him.

He blinked, one eye and then the other; as he forgot to do it before, absorbed in his observations. His mind a world that took one thing at time.

His stare traveled down to the presents that should be impatient by then. Their glossy papers asking to be ripped and the objects inside them screaming to be liberated from their decorated prisons. Shaking right before his eyes. Or was him who was doing it? He didn’t know.

Lavi took one box with a blue ribbon that was the biggest of them all and sat down. He tried to put it in the middle of his legs, but it was too big and too heavy to do so, making him cross them and from there, try to open it.

-A little bit early and you would’ve caught Santa, champ. -A voice that had laughter in it called for him. He looked at his father and smiled brightly, unable to contain his excitement any further.

-Is it a game? -He asked; his different colored eyes gleaming like precious stones.

-I don’t know. Why don’t you open it? -Lavi’s mother arrived with a cup of coffee for her husband. Her orange cascade of hair in a messy ponytail that barely classified as one. She had green eyes like twin spirits of spring; except that in the right one the green was cut in half by a light brown mark. Land that yearned the touch of the sea.  _Heterochromia_ , like his, but not quite. His father was a little dim beside her, his hazel eyes and light brown hair not as flashy as hers. But surely, something that he compensated with his personality and a smile that was only outshined by his son’s. 

“ _The fool that won the lottery.”_ Her father said when she mentioned it, back when they started dating.

She rested her head on her man’s shoulder and did what she could to remain awake, such hours a crime for her nocturnal customs. Her hands around her favorite purple mug. The delicious smell of the brew a summon for her tired spirit to hang a little longer at the land of the morning people.

One moment and the sound of the paper being torn by the small and anxious hands that she loved to kiss each night before his little son went to sleep made her open her eyes. The present she wanted most for him to open the one chosen. His expression the only thing she wanted for Christmas. A face so beautiful that she wanted to see in him forever.

“ _So happy!”_

- **IT IS! OH! YES!** -Both observed Lavi jump in his place as he was unable to lift the box. A blue cardboard box with white, slim letters that called the brand. His hands touching it as if he was afraid it would disappear if he stopped doing it. 

-You still have to read your books, Junior. -His grandfather called from the left, already showered and dressed as only old people seem to do; even in holidays and free days. A firm education that his daughter passed as well, and one that he had no intention to forgive in his only grandson.

“ _He has to learn until he knows that he can do everything he wants. He will be the best; because he deserves nothing but the best.”_

-Yes, yes. I promise I read them all. Can I play with it now? Please?  _Please?_ -He looked at his parents who laughed and stared at the eldest as they talked. His mother taking the lead.

-I don’t know, Asthore. Ask your grandpa. -His mother closed her eyes again; too much hours reading  _The Golden Ass;_ that, she thought, surely was named after what you needed to sit through it, instead of the animal that Lucius was transformed into. 

Vaguely, she recalled that at first, that was the name she wanted for her son, as that same novel was what fascinated her into history as a teen. Yet, now she was glad they decided otherwise. The constant revision that required research tiring her out of the word.

She envied her husband’s well rested face a little; his last journey to India gifting him two weeks more of freedom before going back to work. Unlike hers, that demanded to be taken care of the next day. An intransigent brat that, unlike her son, never understood that she had other things to do beside working.

-Can I play, Panda?  _Please? -_ The old man stared at him and his puppy eyes. A weapon that will be more useful to him in his teenage years, but certainly, never with him.

-I don’t know, Junior.  _Can_ you? -Lavi lost his smile immediately. A comedy act that required truly all his grandfather’s self-control. His face impassive.

- _**May I** _ play with it now,  _please?_ -A small quarrel that would accompany those two until Lavi was an adult. Even married. A tug-o-war that never had a winner for more than a day; neither of them wanting to give in. Too similar to accept the other’s victories.

-Don’t you want to open all your other presents? -His face lit up once more and the oldest of the family felt his heart contract and expand in a movement that was almost painful to bare.

-I forgot! Yes! More presents! –

And one after the other, toys and books and fantastic things that came out of strange and secret shelves at some other mystic corners of the world appeared; until Lavi couldn’t maintain his eyes open. The sun coming out for him to remember that it was terribly early when he came down to see what the mythical Red Man left for him.

Magic stroke again at the afternoon, when the smell of freshly baked cookies woke him up in his bed. A place that, for him, had a fantastic magnetic respawning spell. Making him appear there no matter where he slept in.

As he grew, the redhead would miss the most that piece of sorcery that only follow us through childhood. Having to drag himself to a more comfortable place after late hours working. The stairs to his bed at his house infinite as he walked up them after leaving the private library he owned. Filled with books in an attempt of stripping it from his quality of fortress of solitude without results.

Sometimes it wouldn’t be worth the effort; his mattress equally cold and alone as the desk he used to work down at the main part of the place.

That of course until certain someone would ask him to come up with him, later in his life. His voice sweet and always impossible to resist. Another kind of that same spell that made him appear again in his bed. Yet, those times his bed was transfigured by his touch and instead waited for him warm and with a flowery smell that he missed every second he was away from it. His aversion to sleep suddenly cured.

But until then, his childhood gifted him with that marvelous ignorance of the true shape of procedures. Everything a trick of a higher magician or druid, making it impossible to understand for a simple swordsman like him.

A trip downstairs for another surprise. Wasn’t that the best of Christmas? Every turn was one.

-Do you want to help mamma make cookies? -He dragged a chair and sat at the dinner table as he nodded. Rubbing his green eye and moving his feet once he was sitting. -Okay then; but you have to come here. We have to wash your hands. Otherwise you can’t touch the dough. –

He closed both eyes and made a pout. Lavi didn’t like much washing his hands when he was freshly awake. The sensation and the sound making him want to pee. Still, he let his mother guide him, trusting that the heat of the oven would be enough distraction. Its little light a mystery that he had no intention to solve but to admire. Like the one of the fridge. Why did one turned off when the door was closed, and the other didn’t?

Such a wild mystery. Who knew? Maybe later he would try and experiment with them, but not right then. The cookies where what mattered.

A moment later, he was once again at the table; the dough rolled and ready for his favorite part. Cutting it. Drawing up shapes with a single movement. A push and boom! You are the DaVinci of the cookies. Or god. Was god an artist? Making things out of other things made you a god or an artist or a cookie cutter expert?

Maybe all of them. Maybe none.

What mattered was that he unquestionably was good at cutting dough.

-I want dinosaurs’ cookies. -He stated, looking at her mother while she presented him the pink plastic container where they kept the cookie cutters.

-That’s fine, Asthore. But dinosaurs aren’t really Christmas related…don’t you think? Won’t be weird having them among the others? –

-No. Dinosaurs also had Christmas. -She smiled and kissed him on top of his head as she gave him the cutter. Her kid taking it and putting it on the dough, his tongue showing in between his somehow tight lips. His efforts clear.

“ _Striving for perfection, huh?”_

-Don’t say that in front of your Panda, ok? -A quick hug that he accepted with no interest. His attention completely on his task.

-I heard you. Too late. -The old man mumbled as he walked inside the room. His steps stopping beside his grandson, silently observing his work. -You know that dinosaurs didn’t exist when Christmas happened, right kid? –

Lavi moved the cutter to separate the dough, just like his mother taught him; shaking it a little. And after he was completely sure that it was done right, he turned to address his grandparent.

-I’m not  _dumb_ . Christ didn’t exist then. Dinosaurs are  _before_ Christ. So, it couldn’t be  _Christmas_ if there was no Christ. -His stare was somehow the bridge between being a kid and an adult and the offense in his eyes made the man raise his almost invisible eyebrows as he listened. Lavi’s expression a permanent trait that got stuck with him since then. -But what  _I meant_ was that they  _might_ had a dinosaur party that was  _like_ Christmas. And we can’t know that because we  _weren’t_ there. –

A pause that was only interrupted by his mother’s movement as she washed dishes, listening him without turning.

-Were you there? -Sudden alarm and pure curiosity. A doubt that made him snicker and his daughter laugh loudly. The possibility of being wrong but ready to investigate further swelling his chest with pride.

-No. I’m not a thousand years old, Junior. -The kid squinted his eyes, disbelieving his calmed words.

-Are you sure? You look like a mummy. -His mom turned the tap off, cutting the water. Her shirt was already wet as she tried to wash a spoon when his comment arrived, making her cry in laughter.

- _**I’m sure** _ . -He said simply. -One day you’ll be as old as I am. –

-I don’t think so. -Lavi said matter of fact about it, almost smugly.

-Oh? And why is that? -He was just like his mother with just the right parts of his father. Sunshine and mischief. Why did children have to grow? If he could only keep him like that forever…

-Because I’m going to be handsome like dad! Mamma always says it! -A wise expression that stripped him out of an answer. Lavi took the cutter and restarted his work, taking special care into each push of that twisted piece of aluminum into the soft surface of the dough looking for a clean cut.

-Well, handsome or not you still have to do your chores, you know that? -The smallest of the redheads made another pout, biting his cheek from inside. -Because unless you marry someone who wants to maintain that expensive taste you have for things, you have to get a degree to have a nice work and therefore having nice things. Like your video game. –

-I’m  _never_ going to marry. -He declared without a doubt. -And  _anyway_ , you have a  _lot_ of money. I heard you guys talking about it. So I don’t have to get a  _debris_ . -Both adults look ed at each other in confusion that sooner than later transform ed into amusement and a heartwarming feeling that made both ache inside. The eldest pinched his grandson’s cheek to push away the sensation, and the kid complained but did nothing; still attentive to his task. 

-It’s  _**degree** _ **,** brat. Not  _debris._ -Lavi’s mother walked away from the sink and crouched near him, helping him put his finished pieces into an already buttered try. A rag on her  back pocket.

-Don’t you want to marry? Maybe out there is a really pretty girl that will love you and will make cookies with you. Wouldn’t that be fun? –

-Girls are weird. -He mustered without raising his eyes. -They don’t like dinosaurs anymore and I don’t like dolls. They are scary. What if she wants to make doll cookies? I don’t want that. The other day one told me history was  _boring_ . –Affliction tainted those last words making his mother’s heart twist. Oh, how much she wanted for everything to be perfect for his little man! Even if  it  was something as simple as liking what he liked or not. Perhaps not that everyone agreed with him but at least that they accepted  him without making him feel like something that he loved so much was  _boring._

-But she will live with you and love you. Like your father and I love each other. –She tried again. It was too early to talk about such things, but as a mother it was natural and almost unavoidable for her to ask him. If he didn’t want to talk about it, she would drop it. But a question never hurt anybody, didn’t it?

-Can’t I just live with another boy instead? And make dinosaurs cookies and play videogames. –How simple was the mind of a child! Of course that would be the most important thing for him.  _Dinosaurs and videogames._

-I guess you could. -She paused and thought about it. A decision taken as she touched her small shoulder, his rabbit onesie that would fit no more next year so fluffy it made him feel like a stuffed plush. She wanted to hug him always and forever. A vision like a flash that was bright and clear for a moment, but then it was gone. -Lavi? –He heard her but made no attempt to look back at her. Yet, she needed his attention. It was an important thing. She touched his cheek trying to make him look at her in the eye. She couldn’t let that away; it didn’t matter he was that young. -Lavi, Asthore, look at mamma. –

He obeyed; his big orbs framed by his eyelashes. For her, still the face of a baby and not a ten-year-old. As small and fragile and precious as the day the doctor put him on her arms. How quickly years went by! Merciless and in a blink, taking right before her eyes the time she had with him as an infant.

Childhood an instant that lasted forever in the eyes of the one that has it, but a second in the ones that witness it.

-Can you promise me something? –Lavi had the cutter in his right and after one long look at the dough, now destroyed by dinosaur shaped holes, nodded. Pausing. -I want you to promise me that you will only make those cookies with someone that will make you happy. Yes? –

-Yes. –His voice was quiet. Something in the urgency of her voice making him unsure.

-But not just happy like when dad takes you to hike in the mountain like every weekend or like when you get an A in class. Happy like today with your new game. Happy like that time when Panda took you to work and told you stories and let you use the globe that has the stars in it. Happy like that time Crowley took you to ride a horse. Happy like when you say you feel like your heart will make  _boom_ . Yes? Only then you will make dinosaurs cookies  _and_ play videogames with them. –

Her mother caressed his cheek, her eyes reflecting an anxious wait that he wanted to disappear. Why was that  _so_ important?

-Ok. -He concluded. -But then it  _definitely_ has to be a boy. -She smiled and pet his hair, his son sighing as he shrugged. As if that was all he could do for her. 

-That’s fine, Asthore. Be sure he loves you and you love him enough to do that, ok? –All that she wanted was that someone loved him dearly like she loved her husband and her husband loved her. Without reserves, without doubts. Completely, entirely,  _madly._

“ _Forever, always._ _ **Exceptionally.”**_

Someone that would love everything from the way he smiled to that little gesture he made when he was about to sneeze.

-Ok. –Lavi said with a smile, mirroring her. Like children do.

-Do you promise? –One more time for good luck.

-Yes, I promise. –

Satisfaction. A sealed deal with a kiss on his temple.

  
  


-Snowflake? –The fire cracked, hungrily eating the logs they fed it with.

His eyes traveled from his book to his boyfriend; an idea that involved a ring and a change of titles around his mind from the past two weeks that remained unshared with anybody but himself.

-Mh? –Allen twisted enough to face him, his hair already long enough to touch his shoulders. He was wearing a white sweater that, like most of his clothes was two sizes too big for him; making it look like a short dress. His soft legs near the redhead, as he was facing the other side while browsing on his phone. Only one lilac stocking on his left foot up to his knee. Always quick to get rid of them as soon as he wasn’t cold.

-Have you ever made dinosaur cookies? -Lavi observed his reaction. Allen’s gray eyes going to the ceiling as he tried to catch a memory that would tell him the answer for his question. Then, after searching among his mental archives, his lover looked at him once again.

-No. Just regular cookies. –He crawled back to him; pushing his book away and laying over him, his warmth welcomed.

-Do you want to make some? –A smile as he got close enough to kiss him.

-Only if you tell me which is your favorite dinosaur. -His eyelids dropped dangerously and Lavi hugged him by the waist, knowing his teasing habits. Wanting to have him there with him until all time passed.

-You first. -A whispered name that Lavi couldn’t catch as his lips met his; everything else disappearing with his touch, except one thought.

“ _Oh, I love you so much.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Xmasbabies!  
> It’s me again with the chapter that took the most out of me. And almost caused me a heart attack when my pc turned off as I feared I lost it.
> 
> I’m sorry if it isn’t what you expected. To be honest, I don’t really recall what Christmas it’s supposed to be when you are a child, but I tried my best. This chapter required a lot of investigation too! It’s been a while since I had to research history, genetics, and semantics for a single short text!
> 
> I don’t like to take a lot of liberties in my fanfics, since what we all want its to enjoy the characters, so I tried to navigate my way into Lavi’s parents that…well do not even exist in the original material. I used genetic charts to choose how they would look, and I avoided giving them names to not fall out of the canon that much. I really hope you liked them even if they classify as OC. I’m really sorry if you don’t, I thought the story wouldn’t follow the same without them in a fragment of how Lavi’s childhood was.  
> I also wanted to make a contrast that was clear to what was growing up with people that loved you. 
> 
> As a note, Asthore is one word that came into prominent use during the Irish literary renaissance. It stems from the Gaelic word stōr, which means "treasure." And if you read first the Halloween special, by now you’ll know I chose Celtic/Gaelic/Irish to be Lavi’s roots. So, there it is.  
> Also, Celtic people didn’t have Christmas, this was adapted as Catholicism merged with their religion and beliefs and ended up being accepted but it doesn’t have a heavy meaning like Hallows Eve. Or at least not for them. 
> 
> Anyway, I do apologize for any errors that eventually I will correct, but it’s like…6? In the morning and I just wanted to pull this right. As I said, I’m not really good at Christmas or family stuff.  
> Thank you as always for reading and commenting! I’m always glad to read your thoughts. Hope your year starts off wonderfully and stays like that until the very end!
> 
> -Noctomata.


	3. Christmas Carole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares that are hard to difference. Is this what being awake is like?  
> Allen can’t sleep after that party, even if it happened long months ago. Closing his eyes, it’s a penitence itself, keeping them open brings mostly pain.  
> Why couldn’t everything remain still when he was uncapable of noticing what was wrong?  
> Being a child is no longer there, being an adult it’s yet far away.  
> What a terrible place was being in the middle of life and death!
> 
> [W A R N I N G: this chapter can be really unconfortable for some. It has nothing explicit about non-consense and underage; but hey, if you can read I'm sure you can imagine. I strongly advice you to skip this chapter if you can't bare the unwanted sexual undertones of it.]

“ _Wake up.”_

People called it  _falling_ asleep. But that was a lie. 

Sleep was nothing like falling. It was more like blinking or making your heart pump. Like breathing. An involuntary movement that could be held back for a moment but any longer and it would break you apart. Could anyone be able to make their heart stop for a beat? A moment. A second. He thought he read that snipers did it, once. In a magazine. A book. Another life. But sleep was nothing like falling, instead, it was more like fading away.

Yet, waking…oh waking was all about that.

A crash back home.

“ _Home?”_

What a weird thought.

Waking up was like being punched in the gut. The air that stabbed his lungs as it moved through them, never caring if it was in or out again. The chaos of that strange pain that was its only order.

Allen hated them both. The breathing of the dream. The falling punch of the awakening.

He had troubles sleeping for months now.

It started with a party and crawled slowly into his mind.

At first, he slept ten hours daily, between adolescence and a depression that he never fully understood. Ten hours that digested his afternoons into nights and sometimes even swallowed them in a peaceful ignorance that was only bliss. He only existed for school, one or two errands and skipping meals that he couldn’t afford, pausing his existence as he turned himself off to sleep.

Like a machine. _“Easy_ _piece lemon squeezy_.” 

He missed those days with a sourness that poisoned the memory with impossibility. What was in the past in the past would remain. No more chance to sleep away his sorrows as they mutated with the ability of infecting his dreams again. It only took a party. It only took one touch.

“ _One look.”_ He was no mind reader, but he didn’t need to be one. There was a moment in life that not being aware of other’s intentions over your body was more than a probability. It was unfeasible.

If he could only undo what was done…! But it already happened and there was no turning back. He then started cutting his hours back like they were a disposable expend and he was on a short budget. One here, one there. Nobody cared. By now three hours were a necessity that merged dangerously with privilege. Was sleeping really that indispensable? He didn’t want to sleep but he needed sleep. His body only being able to stand so long in the dark. Jumping from a nightmare to the other.

It was then when his fondness for horror movies transformed into an obsession. A desperate search for something more awful than his daily thoughts. An escape.

“ _Sleep is a little death. Like a treat from god that tell us one day it will be over”_

But was it a treat?

Allen hated closing his eyes because there wasn’t any nothing there. There was no turn off for his brain, there was no break anymore.

When people got exhausted, they said they dreamed of nothing, but he couldn’t understand how. A little envy coloring his insides when he heard others where capable of that. So easy, so nice. Whenever he closed them it was like the only treat he got was a sneak peek to his personal hell.

Senseless, horrible nightmares that waking up didn’t ease in anyway.

They were places and people and the sensation of being trapped. Trapped by them…for them. For him.

“ _Wake up!”_

There it was. The punch in the gut. Frozen sweat that coated his back like iced crystals, together with the electricity that came with the knowledge that he would be caught doing something he was not supposed to do. How was sleeping normally supposed to be, again?

The duvet was crumpled away from his ankles. The fabric on the floor like spilled ink. It was hard to breath it was hard to live. Was that sweat? Salt was torturing his eyes in every merciless blink. The heat of his own body leaving him like a ghost that fades away at the first drops of holly water, abandoning him into one of the coldest days of winter.

What day was it? What time?

He buried his head against his hands. His elbows over his knees that even when they were hurting his skin for the pressure, produced no pain. Only numbness that accompanied the feeling of his head spinning.

“ _Like a pair of rolled die.”_

-Ugh,  _lucky_ me…-He grumbled into the darkness of the apartment, the living room croaking back at him; as if it seconded his pain. He had no room anymore and by then, he was used to it. Not like it was any different in his childhood. Sometimes, in some places he was truly fortunate and his stepfather would rent a place that had two separated places for them to have a little privacy; but as they moved regularly as the eldest ran away from his debts, it was another luxury that he was forced to give up and away. That December being the proof more than the exception. 

Of course, Cross  _did_ have his own room. 

It was wide and had a bed that could fit six adults in his opinion, but hey, he was perfectly fine in that sofa bed. It wasn’t like he used it a lot anyway, and he was closer to the kitchen if he needed anything. Anything meaning  _water_ because all that was in that fridge was alcohol. 

-Fucking nightmare. -He tried to recall anything about it. A masochistic exercise that attempted to give sense to the darkest parts of his mind. It didn’t help much, but he couldn’t help himself by trying. They should have a root, some sense…a clue…Something,  _anything_ , to help him get rid of them…

There was a click and the fear he felt when he waked up arrived again. Only a hundred times harder, biting with the recognizable taint of its evolved version:  _terror._

It was only a click, but Allen knew what it meant.

The sound filled the room the second it arrived. Its wave cold and cruel, the prelude of the storm that had the taste of plasma on its deceiving insignificance.  
He listened to the door that was closed back by an uncaring hand, making that soft and strangely loud click as it fitted again with the lock; the user confused with the method of such a simple task. It sounded like someone pulling away the lock of a gun. Too loud and too threatening.   
Twice in his life Allen was held by gun point before.

Once when he was around seven and he couldn’t get the few bills he had in his pockets as fast as the collectors required, and the other when he was thirteen and he went to deliver a package for his Master. The second one was still under his skin as he recalled vividly how the iron mouth of the weapon dug in his soft cheek, a kiss of death. The metal an alien sensation that mixed with an absurd familiarity. It felt like the park games where he could climb or crawl. Like the chains that held the swings. Like the seesaw. Like…

“ _Like blood.”_

Until it made a click.

He never told a soul, but if he did, he would’ve said it was  _surreal._

You see a gun in the news and in the movies, but not as a daily item people carry with them like their phone or a pen. And having one against his face, with the cold mouth kissing his cheek or his temple…well it was something that even when it was happening…it felt  _unreal._

“ _Sure, you have a gun in my face what are you going to do? Shoot me?”_ And of course, the answer to that question was _yes. Obviously, I’ll shoot you_. But it didn’t really arrive until the lock was off.

A click, dry and cheerful. Almost glad that you were there. A click that if it brought a friend… _BOOM,_ you would be gone. 

It was an insignificant sound until it was made by the safety lock being taken off from a Glock 22. Then it was not a threat but a promise.

Oh, and that click over the door sure was a promise.

Quickly he covered himself to the head. Careful of not leaving any part of his body out…as the monster that was in a more dangerous place than under his bed would unquestionably want to drag him down to hell, now that he was out.

The nightmare felt so sweet then! How dearly he wanted to be asleep! To be saved from that. But then again…

Did that ever help?

Finally, the door swung open and by open, he meant slammed; the poor piece of wood crying under the weight of a man that was too drunk to stand. A cocoon of fabric sheltering him from that. The only barrier that he hoped would endure the attack.

Dragged footsteps over the wooden floor. His heart was racing on his throat.

“ _Your breath!_ _You’re_ _asleep. Easy. In -count to five- out.”_ It was hard to act like he was sleeping. Trying to keep his body from shaking. Was he being too tense? Too loose? He just wanted to be ignored, to be left alone…

Allen listened closely and shut his eyes tight. A mantra inside his head that sometimes worked and some other it didn’t. It was a gamble.  _A bet._

“ _I’m sleep. I’m sleep. I’m sleep!”_ Did you ever pray for a monster to go away?

Clumsy steps that were heavy and drew a map over the place. Coordinates. Position and names. Every plank complaining in their own way here or there, giving out where he was standing. An unorthodox game of Battleship where the only thing that would sink would be his stomach as fear gained more points.

Allen felt his heart threatening to jump out and tried, with all his might to regulate his breathing as he pulled air inside. “ _Steady. I’m sleep. I’ve been sleep for a while. Leave me be._ _**Please** _ _. I’m sleep.”_

It was a hard task. Not because the beating of the muscle that kept him alive was pushing on his temples or because he felt it pulsating under his tongue. Moving the sheet as it danced and giving him away like a trapped cat. No. He was used to that. It was tricky because another gasping, hard and rich was getting closer at a speed that he bet was being nauseating for a man that was ninety percent alcohol; confusing him.

-Hey brat! -His roaring voice made him bite his lip hard. He pushed his left over his mouth and bit his index, it wouldn’t be really noticeable, it was already red by that mark.

“ _Don’t scream. Don’t make a sound.”_

-Hey are you awake? -Fat tears that leaked to his mouth and made him think that he was made of salt. If he could only endure a little more…his face was to the wall. Even if he uncovered him, he wouldn’t see his face and it wasn’t like he was going to turn on the light…

A shattering noise that took away his façade making him flinch.

- **Fuck.** -Was there any other noise? He couldn’t listen, his blood pumping right on his eardrums. -Apprentice, hey…Kid. -He grabbed his shoulder, his touch like an apparition that wasn’t there a moment ago. He wanted to squeal but knowing what that would bring he offered a perfect depiction of someone that had just wake up. -Allen! Good, you are awake. - 

-What…what time is it? -He yawned. The next line on his perfect act.

“ _God, he is talking so loud.”_

The man that was crouching beside him smiled. It was dark, but he could see it as the moonlight leaked through the blinds of their window. It made him shiver but he played it out as if he was stretching.

“ _Nothing to see. Please go away.”_

-Do you know I care about you? -His breath was like submerging your head in a wine barrel. Concentrated and acid with notes of hazard. -Do you? -Pushing.

He raised his gloved hand and the fabric squealed as he curled his fingers to caress his cheek. The shortest gulped, recognizing his cue.

-Yes. -Allen mustered so quietly it got drowned to his own ears by the deafening sound of his terrified heart.

“ _If you were under the floor, the murder of that tale wouldn’t be able to sleep again.”_

-Mh, and do you  _love_ me, dear apprentice? -His hand touched his chin and Allen started breathing by his mouth, feeling his nostrils closing and his eyes watering. He wasn’t hurting him; if anything, the grasp was a little harder tha n his daily touches, but it still made him afraid. Cross wasn’t someone really touchy, at least not with anyone that wasn’t his women; but with him…the more he grew up the touchier he got. 

It didn’t mean anything, he was sure. He touched his shoulders, his head, his back, his face, sometimes when he supported him his waist. One or two pats on his thighs if he was wearing anything short or tight but…it made him feel….

Like he was a thing.

An object. A property. A tool.

“ _Use me and let others use me in other ways as long as it fits your interests.”_

It made him feel dirty, like…

“ _A whore.”_

-Allen? -The oldest man asked again. There was nothing but drunkenness in his words and Allen knew what he was supposed to do.

-Yes, of course. –He tried not to blink, afraid of the same sensation of falling asleep. All his attention there, it was like dealing with a wild animal. But was he the animal or the caregiver? He wasn’t sure.

-Yes,  _what_ ? -The tall redhead asked once more, voice husky and tough. If it was a texture, he thought it would be just like pumice being yanked over a baby’s hand. The missing touch of cigarettes was back. Was it weird that Allen missed it, when he was not around? 

-Yes,  _**Master** _ . -He completed the word. As the years passed it was harder and harder to push it out of his mouth. 

-Good boy. -Cross used his hold to move his head, kissing him sloppily over the cheek. The youngest let him do it, praying for him to look away so he could clean his face. He could feel the itch of his beard against his skin, even when he already moved away. -Do you know what day is today? –

Allen didn’t know. Days like hours or weeks or months or years. It didn’t matter. It was always the same for him.

_Work._

-No. Is it important? -A loud laugh that made his bones tremble. When did he start scaring him with his noise?

-Of course it is! It’s your birthday! –

Except it wasn’t really his birthday. He recalled how when he had eleven, he asked all year long about his biological parents and as a horrible and cruel gift, the 25th of December of that year he got a thousand documents that narrated the worst Christmas tale he ever read. The last page had a number and an address but as he was still too young to travel that far on his own, he asked to call.

After the fifth try he managed to engage in a conversation that was longer than his motif. Every previous attempt a clean hung up.

“ _Look_. _That was no mistake.”_ Five words but they were enough. 

Allen was fine having his birthday on Christmas or Halloween or just a random day picked out of a bingo draw. It didn’t matter. Was he the same kid that was abandoned on that dreadful day? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. A birthday was just like any other day.

-Oh, _right_ . -He said as a strained smile got over his lips, making him look like a plastic doll. 

-I brought you a present. -He raised his eyebrows and waited, not really able to match the idea of a present with his stepfather. -It’s your sixteen birthday, so I thought I could give you something nice. –Cross put a dark thing over his lap and Allen touched with doubts, the precaution of someone holding a snake for the first time.

Another click that sounded entirely different. His side lamp bringing some light. A little comfort.

It was a  _coat._

A black and white coat which cut drew the nice line of a curved waist into the air. It was pretty, Allen thought, but it was also stained with the stench of hell.

“ _Make a deal with the devil and he’ll never give you anything for free.”_ He could feel the looks and the hands of men that were old enough that he could be their son. The smell of their colognes and after shaves. The touch of their fancy clothes with foreign fabrics. Silk and cashmere. Mulberry, charmeuse and velvet. All over his face. The taste of wine or champagne, mostly whiskey…it was always the same. 

His fingers perceived the ghostly softness of the bills. Money that he never managed to enjoy but oh, how briefly happy it made him! Was that enough to make him forget?

“ _One day it won’t be sufficient. One day hiding a hundred or two for your own will never be enough. You can’t buy happiness, you slut.”_

-Thank you  _Master_ . It’s beautiful. -He hugged the piece of cloth. He just wanted to have his hands busy so he wouldn’t held them like that. So he wouldn’t touch him. 

-That’s nice. -Allen turned in his seat, trying to act as if he was interested on the silver buttons and not trying to make him go away. Nonetheless, a hand clenched on his shoulder once more and soon he felt his weight as he passed his arm around him, over his collar bones that felt like cracking. Just like wishing bones. -You never hug me anymore. It’s because you are all grown up? –

“ _If they break, can I wish for someone to take me away? Even if they aren’t that nice. Just a little better would be great.”_

Allen knew it wasn’t that he honestly felt sad about it or that he missed him in anyway. After all, that man wasn’t his father and for him, he was only a resource. A toy. Yet, having his face so close to him, just like those men that would ogle him shamelessly with lust and then ask for him in a dark place, made a match ignite inside him. With a strange rage he couldn’t name.

-Don’t touch me like  _that_ ! –He had pushed him and now, stood up a meter away from his improvised bed. His gray eyes sparkling with anger and resolution. His fist around the fabric, trying to hold to something real to push the nightmare away. 

-Like  _**what** _ ? -Cross was incorporating himself, his stare absent and a little confused by his sudden outburst. 

“ _Drunk to the boot, I guess.”_

-Like I’m one of your women! -It had poison. It had drama. It had…rebellion in it. The redhead stood up as well, using his full height to remind him who he truly was.

“ _You are not some lost, interesting princess, kid. You are lucky if anyone consider you more than a mongrel. Than a pet_.” 

-I never touch my women like that, you  _**stupid** _ brat. -The courage left those eyes as the statement arrived. The lit match burnt out. -Don’t you speak of what you don’t know. You wouldn’t and never be a shadow of the women I  love . –

Cross grunted after a sigh; tired to deal with the child that was closer to an adult now, but still as foolish as the toddler he picked up.

-Whatever. Enjoy what is left of your birthday. I’m out. -A pat over his cheek and he disappeared behind another door that made a click that was now a safety lock that Allen wished could just shoot him away from his misery.

“ _Do you think he would think of you as anything else but some easy cash? Even for you that’s flattering yourself more than you deserve.”_

In the dark Allen trembled with anger against himself. How could he say that? There was  _nothing_ about him that was worth  _anyone’s_ time. That was why the men that  _visited_ him, were only a  _one-time chance._

His nails started marking the skin of his palm as he started crying.

Silent tears for another silent night.

Wasn’t that a Christmas tale, or something like that?

The ghosts of the Christmases that were there once, were there now and would probably always be there.

Until an unremarkable death.

A click, to take him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!  
> I was having such a hard time writing this chapter.  
> Not because it was a difficult subject, it was more a matter of how to start it and how to keep it going as the main focus of the episode was the experience of Allen on the business without being too technical about it. 
> 
> I have to strain a point here, if you have any doubt: Cross never touched him in a sexual way. It was more about how Allen felt. How he interpreted things or hated to be touched by someone that used him to get money out of how he looked or his body. As the man said, he is less interested in him like that than anything. 
> 
> I tried something different with this chapter that maybe came out as weird for some of you. So I apologize if (aside from the plot point) you didn’t like how it was written. The thing was, when I learnt (or started) to write I began with poetry. I was really in love with verses and how they sounded and rolled out, so I wrote like a two hundred of them and eventually got better until I got bored and migrated to plain narration. As I read more and more novels my style improved, but I always kept poetry in a special place in my heart. So, this being “A Christmas Carole” I thought…hey why not? Try some elements of it into a narrative. 
> 
> I also wanted to give it a more personal insight(?) When I mean personal, I mean Allen’s perspective. Adolescence is mostly cruel with everyone. Confusing experience that have nothing that stick them together but our contribution as protagonist of it. I tried to put this out in this short tale…
> 
> Hope it didn’t turn out badly. That’s why it’s short.  
> If you didn’t enjoy it don’t worry, my regular style will be back on the next tragic chapter about Lavi’s life. 
> 
> A brief reminder that this chapters are not precisely linear in time, and if this happens when Allen just turned 16 doesn’t mean the next it’s gonna be situated in Lavi’s 19. 
> 
> In another author note I want to tell also, if you feel identified with him and need to talk, I’m always open in my twitter. But preferable if you can, seek for help and therapy. This are not normal thoughts. You are valid, you matter. You are loved.
> 
> I leave you with this and I’ll go back to my bed because honestly, I’m freezing! Oh, this whole chapter was written with the Death Stranding official playlist on Spotify.
> 
> Have a great night/noon/life <3 I’m always happy to read your comments and thoughts! Thank you for your interest and kudos. They always make me smile.


	4. Sleigh Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy and cozy are we  
> We're snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be  
> Let's take the road before us and sing a chorus or two  
> Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you
> 
> Everyone has a dark moment in the past. Lavi’s happens to be one out of Dickens worsts. Did it really happen? Everything feels like a dream, where he can’t wake up.
> 
> [W A R N I N G]: This chapter is tragic, as you already know Lavi’s parents are dead and this is about it. It has a considerable amount of tragedy, sadness, misery and nihilism. If you don’t feel like it you can skip it, as the chapters of the special do not directly affect the original story. Still, I must say that this has a deep relevance with moments from Crybaby like an insight on some characters decisions. This is a long warning, but I know some of you aren’t in the right mind place to see any more sad things. As a light spoiler I decided to end this chapter with another sweet note, similar to how chapter 2 of this same special ends.

“ _-A wife who loses a husband is called a widow. A husband who loses a wife is called a widower. A child who loses his parents is called an orphan. There is no word for a parent who loses a child. That’s how awful the loss is._ -”

A shadow of the sensation that once was.

A lazy replica that felt like an echo. Bleach over black fabric; invisible at first, but draining the color into sepia shaded spots as soon as you turned your back on it. White centered stains that could never be removed but would always carry with them the sensation of abandonment. Like a scar that you’ll never know how you got.

It had been so long since the last time he felt _that.._. Maybe he couldn’t remember anymore and that was just that. An echo. An illusion. A _mirage._

A second strike that came in getting mixed with a memory so hazed that was already slipping away from his grasp. Sliding down the back of his brain into the oblivion; to the vault of the things we think we remember but are so profoundly guarded we can’t do anything beside guessing their true form.

Was it the past? Was that the future?

The vibration so similar to the pain in his joints before a storm came back to torment him. A painful lash of misery that extended from his arm and up to the roof of his mouth, just like hitting his elbow against a sharp corner.

The old bookman let the pen slither down his hand, the cold texture of the metallic pattern that hugged the Circa 1915 Mabie Todd Swan fountain pen he gifted his daughter on her graduation day burning his wrinkled skin like liquid nitrogen. An image that hit like a camera flash against his eyelids and shook his world with the feeling of an overpriced Polaroid at a carnival in the seventies.

“ _Shake it ‘till you see it.”_ Said the stranger that never took a no for an answer; talking among the undulating rings over the dark water of his recollections.

Nausea running up and threatening with acid vomit.

Did it always feel like that?

He closed his eyes and grabbed the corner of his desk, trying to hold onto reality. To not let that sensation of blackout take him away. It came and went like full moon tide; wild waves that crashed at the bay of his conscious mind and screamed with purple and freezing waters that turned black, conquering everything.

“- _Dad...-”_ The calling traveled through his head like a nail or an arrow. Exactly though the middle, an ominous pain that warned about the intentions to split his head; to cut it clean in half. He let the desk go and instead held to the pen like it was his lifeline, trying to remember something, anything that would let him know that it was only some random feeling of the age and not the comeback of the flash forwards he so frequently had as a young man.

“- _Dad...-”_ It repeated faintly. A stronger voice that was annoying and at the same time so familiar he couldn’t hate, completely eclipsed the first one, so painfully similar to his daughter’s. It resonated inside his skull and brought with it the image of a man with tough looks but a kind smile, light brown hair that was closer to being blond and cigarette that remained on his lips until the day he died.

“- _Dad..._ _Is my auntie going to die? -”_ It was his own voice.

He recalled he was fishing with his father when it happened. How his green eyes, so tender and soft, acquired a light shade that was stained with the ink of not sadness, but mourning. Did the _gift_ always carried sorrow within? Perhaps that was the price for knowing the future. Perhaps it was some curse from before time. He still didn’t know and couldn’t remember if once mattered to him. The scrambled thoughts like breakfast, shoved around the pan of his mind. His father’s mouth moved in a washed out memory that was almost like watching a recolored black and white movie. One that didn’t even had sound, as his lips didn’t let out any; leaving the answer written across a scar that knowing what shouldn’t be known left.

“- _Yes.-”_ The motion and the memory read over the moment.

It was his first premonition. He had it while he touched the sandwich that she made for him. She was knitting, and he saw her as if it was a dream.

Like an hallucination produced by staring too long at the sun in a defiance of the advice old people gave. “ _Don’t look at it unless you want to get blind!”_

He was so young he didn’t fully understand the weight of his words or even the true meaning of dying; but Lavi’s grandfather remembered how his aunt simply gasped in that awaken dream of his. A sigh that was her last breath on earth, her soul disappearing into the afterlife with nothing more than that. Not even a meaningful last word that would stand as her legacy. Just a breath. Her head touched the back of her rocking chair gently, as if she didn’t die but only dozed off to sleep. Her seat was close to the window and the needles in her hand just lied motionless over her lap in a suspended gesture. Like a paused video that sooner or later would resume back to life.

Although this one never did.

Nothing loud, nothing shocking. Just a step more in the path of life. A quiet turn at the corner that no one knows for sure where it takes you.

He wasn’t scared when he saw the premonition fulfilled and neither when they buried her as the church’s bells sang with tired, heavy notes. Swinging from a side to the other, pulled into an indolent dance that felt somehow as if it was out of obligation. But now?

“ _-Dad…!-”_

- _ **No**_. Don’t let it be true _ **. Don’t!**_ -His heart, old and a little wiser, knew the meaning of the feeling as it recalled with accuracy how every previous visit to the station of his soul felt like. He could forget and blame his brain, but his heart remembered all the same.

_It was **exactly** like that._

The beating turned down slowly. A painful pulse that hit strong one punch at the time. Purple fireworks in the blackness that invaded his sight and advised him to take a seat or fall apart. With them, they brought the _vision_. Horrifying knowledge of the irrevocable tragedy: A screeching sound that left behind the taste of burnt tires, a honk that extended indefinitely. Crashing crystals that rained down and mixed with the hyper detailed crunch of gravel and not a single scream but again, a gasp that took away the lives of those he loved.

Everything ending how it started: with a breath.

“ _Make it_ _ **stop!**_ _”_

He only had one daughter. She was his treasure and his blessing. She was his world.

“ ** _Don’t…_ _!”_**

Once when his wife was alive, he loved her dearly and sincerely but always carried with him the sensation that someday she would be taken away as well. Just like his aunt was. Like his mother and his own father once were, too. It was just like life was, you either got prepared or got stabbed by it. The idea that, even when he loved her one day she would’ve been taken away was something that he understood. Something that made him savor his moments with her with a nostalgic vibe of those things you know you got to remember when they’re gone.

_Oh_ , but when he saw _**her**_ the first time! It was love at first sight. It was a wave like the breeze of summer after being froze. It was the first time he saw Ik Kil. The sensation of being so close from where the gods lived. The image of heaven and eternity spending time with mortality, as a treat. She was his _magnu_ _m_ _opus._ The most valuable thing he ever found in his life. The one real treasure his archaeologist spirit was looking for.

She had her eyes closed. Her small lips puckered and rose. He already thought she was the most beautiful thing he ever saw… and then she opened her eyes. Like she felt his presence. Like she knew he was there. Cradled in the arms of her tired mother. Like she said “ _You think I’m pretty now, dad? But wait! There’s more.”_

One eye perfectly green, like her mother and her grandfather. The other half brown like his. It was ridiculous, but he felt it was because she had just enough of him and everything good from his wife. She raised her little hand with those small fingers, all plump and soft and sort of red and…

A hand that was no longer small, bounced over the pavement. A ring that was too unusual to mistake for another.

Red. Red that crept together with the darkness.

“ _Love is sometimes cruel._ _It knows that the object of your love will fade away, will vanish and yet… yet it grooms you, feeds you, seduce_ _you_ _into the belief that you need nothing but that love to live and then, destroys you._ _Leaving you alone._ _”_

The future and the present stretched again in their dance, so similar to the one of the bells at that church.

“ _-A wife who loses a husband is called a widow. A husband who loses a wife is called a widower. A child who loses his parents is called an orphan. There is no word for a parent who loses a child. That’s how awful the loss is._ -”

Who said that? Whose voice was that?

“ _ **Make it stop!”**_

Seeing the future for him was like riding a train.

Sometimes everything was green and the sky was blue. Nothing to see but what was expected. Maybe it wasn’t happiness but it was the easy going feeling of the wheels running smoothly over the tracks. Everything going as it was supposed to. According to a plan. The destination printed on the ticket, not unexpected stops.

However some others… Some others the train sped up and the windows showed places in blurred lines that let him guess a scene or two in the lives of the people that existed outside himself. How a man gifted some roses, how a child lost a balloon. A dog that barked in silence as the machine drowned its voice, a church in construction with a stained glass that could go up or shatter down. Pictures that passed so fast that were hard to remember voluntarily but somehow as the journey kept going stuck with him, engraved behind his eyes. Like the jingle in a commercial that you thought you forgot, until the melody played again and the lyrics came out your mouth as if you were a ventriloquist dummy and nothing more. Moments without attachment to time or space, existing in a plane that he was supposed to recognize when it arrived. Signs in a crossroad that directed his steps.

“ _Crossroad.”_ The siren that came from afar. The light in red and blue that blinked with one eye and then the other, spinning and driving the suspect under them into the sea of despair. With his eyes closed the man saw through that window in the train that seemed to never stop.

Regardless how much he wished for it to do it. To _crash._

“ _It was a crash...”_ Repeated a voice with tasteless pity. “... _a crash.”_

The heart was a muscle made of tissue so resistant that it suspended itself in the middle of the chest and yet, the old Bookman felt his own crumple and wrinkle, folding itself. Shrinking like a grape left in the sun to become a raising. A burnt paper that had one word written as the rest of the letter that once was became ashes that were blown away.

“ _ **Death.**_ _”_

-Hey Panda, do you think I can open my presents now? I know we’re waiting for mom and dad but it’s already midnight and they… -His sentence got cut and the old man knew his pain was plastered all over his face. -Gramps? Hey! Hey are you alright? -

Alarm that displaced cheer. Another pain to his suffering soul. He heard his steps getting closer, his right still clutching the pen, his left grabbing his shirt over his heart. The spots that once were sparks of darkness by then grown to the point that life was the blurred window; only the corners of the passing moment there to let him know he hadn’t fainted yet. A thought that pulsated under his aorta and injected poison through his veins, keeping him awake, hemlock roots that grew inside him before his fate arrived. Paralyzing him without letting him disconnect.

-Gramps? -Lavi’s hand hovered over his shoulder but the doorbell ringing turned his attention away. The siren’s song so loud he could’ve sworn they were outside.

-I’m fine brat. Open...open the door. -It was never a choice to know which part would you be peeking into, just like it wasn’t a choice the moment you saw from the window of a train. But if there was any possibility of him choosing, he thought he would’ve picked that precise one. If only he could spare his grandson a little more of that pain. But life is made of little concessions. And some of them are bound to how much suffering we can endure.

  
  


_Death._

Mythical. Mysterious. Strange.

_Terrifying._

Death, with a D. With her black coat and her scythe, harvesting souls that are roaming on earth past their time. Moving in the shadow without words and just cold whispers of what could’ve become but never  did . Ominous and dark, she came when the ticking of the clock was out.  Bargaining an impossible matter , as no mundane power or  wealth could appeal to her taste. 

D eath that ruled the world within the seconds, the final destination of everything in  E arth and beyond. Inflexible, unstoppable...unreal. 

Lavi was never before close to someone that had experience the power of true Death, with a D. 

At his sixteen years he had only met her little sister,  _death_ with a d. 

The death that all teenagers talk about between tired sighs and rolled eyes. The one that traveled quickly like the flu, mouth to mouth like a gossip. The one that never  _really_ took a life.

“I’m _dead_ , I worked out all day!” “I wish I was _dead_ , the teacher called me out in front of everyone!” “ _I’m dying!_ That’s so funny!” “ _Kill me_ , I don’t want to do that.” “You’re _dead,_ asshole!” “That show was a _killer!”_ “My favorite character just _died.”_ “Oh, shit I _died._ Whatever, I’ll pick it up from the save point.” 

Small, meaningless  _deaths._

The death that never reached and was never cold. The one that passed unnoticed and had attached a relaxed smile between friends.

If anything, his only brushes with Mrs. D, where through a device that allowed him distance and separation. In another part of the world, with people he didn’t know. People he couldn’t love and couldn’t care.

People...with small _dea_ _th_ _s._

At sixteen, nevertheless there was already a bud from that seed that little _death_ brought from her big sister, waiting to bloom. The flower, still dormant, moved slowly with every wind that passed, making Lavi fear about its opening.

The redhead tried to avoid the thoughts that buzzed around such flower. He tried not to think about it in hopes, still sprinkled with tension, that it would remain closed or better, would dry. He tried subconsciously and consciously, awake or sleep; but the flower was already rooted inside him and everything else was already a little too late behind program.

Lavi knew his grandfather wasn’t an immortal being when once while he was babysitting him they argued and the old man coughing ended up making him take a trip to see the doctor. He didn’t live with him and his parents, but spent an awful lot of time around since Lavi was born, to allow his daughter to keep up with her busy professional schedule. He was aware that perhaps it wasn’t his fault, but the guilt still punched inside leaving a bruise that never healed. A mark that palpitated with a single phrase: “ _He could die you know. Die. For real. He is old.”_

And of course, old people died. They had to. But…

“ _But I don’t want_ _ **him**_ _to die.”_

One day that flower would have to bloom, but, as Lavi redirected his steps towards the door, he hoped that day wasn’t the one. He walked in that fog filled with the stench that wanting to avoid the thoughts about _**Death**_ had _ **,**_ zoning out the scene.

The heavy breathing of his grandfather, the hand that was dusted with age spots trembling over his grasped clothes, his almost nonexistent lips tightened that made his mouth disappear in a white line...the tiny sweat beads he spotted with strange precision… everything liquefied in a pool of slow-motioned actions and deafened sounds.

Like an astronaut, he walked long steps to the entrance and twisted the doorknob in an absence that later he wished to keep inside for ever.

-Good night, I’m sorry to disturb you. Is this the residence of…? -The last words got muffled by the siren, the lights and that whistling noise that had a weird similarity with a brutally unplugged microphone.

The woman in front of him had a dark uniform and between her restless hands her hat spun like a roulette in its final lap. Lavi noticed her fair eyes and how they carried a contained little flood inside. Her voice, regardless, was steady when she asked again after receiving no answer if that was his parents house.

In an abstract and distant thought Lavi worked her question.

Of course that was his parents place. It was also his home. It was small, even with all the money they had, as her mom usually wasn’t home and his dad was used to work in small spaces. When he was a kid he wanted to be an architect to build them a bigger house, where they could storage all the strange artifacts and historical findings that his folks discovered around the globe, so they wouldn’t have to give them away. Eventually he understood how that worked, but still…

-Yes, it is. -She was average but he thought she was too tiny to be an officer. Already so tall that he could reach the top of the door frame with a hand. -I’m their son. -The last he added without knowing why.

The flower shaking with a wind that instead of calming down grew stronger.

-I’m sorry...There’s been an accident and… -Her badge read Galmar. What an unusual last name.

-What? -He muttered, his mouth feeling just like after a visit with the dentist.

-Lavi. -It was his grandfather. He flinched at his voice giving a step back. The space under his arm as he kept holding the door enough for the little old man to pass. -Wait in the living room. -

-Panda…? -It didn’t made sense. What was that all about?

-I am responsible of the kid. -Lavi retreated until the front of the stairs. His different colored eyes fixed in the woman that carried the wind that was shaking the flower inside him.

That black flower with a D in it’s name.

-I’m sorry sir. There’s been an accident… -Officer Galmar’s lips moved again without sound but Lavi knew what she said. He knew, but he didn’t understand.

Crowley liked flowers. He liked them and talked about them a lot when he was around. It didn’t matter how ugly they were or how strange, they loved them equally. And there was this one named Dracula, it was an Orchid, he said. He recalled well… Its meaning was…

“ _ **Death.”**_

The flower opened. Three petals heart shaped that ended in long delicate lines; it’s center a confusing mouth or perhaps an expecting grotesque spoon. It was horrible and mystifying like…

“ _ **Death.”**_

His back touched the wall that a few years ago, he never thought he could reach, so much smaller than then. A frame that had a photo of them together in a wonderful other Christmas that was now so far away, fell. He had a dinosaur cookie in his hand as well as his mother. Noses white with flour, smiles as bright as the Christmas lights. The crystal crashed and sounded so loud that Lavi thought the sound came from inside him. It had to. It must have...It…

-Lavi...I have to go with them. -He didn’t even sounded surprised. So calmed… -Stay here, please. -

Nothing else. His grandfather took his coat and disappeared.

The door closed and Lavi felt that even when the lights were on, the action that the Panda performed took it away from his home.

Leaving him alone...in the dark.

  
  


“ _Its a joke.”_

The redhead thought as he walked by the living room.

“ _It must be a joke. How could that be? They were fine. My mom called me. She said they were coming back and that they...”_

Her mother’s voice was there. Her smile easily to picture under her warm tone. _“We love you As_ _thore.”_

Lavi’s face was expressionless. A vacant look that had the struggle of understanding. He checked the clock over the chimney again and spend more time reading the hour than ever.

“ _By now, my dad and I would be in the kitchen. He said he would teach me this Christmas how to make that Grog...He said that he would, if I promised not to tell mom. And I’m no snitch so...”_

The glasses were there. Short, crystal cut in triangles between their shapes. The light bounced in the cuts as he took one and turned it, examining it as the promise to his father came back to him. He was already sixteen and Richard, his father, that was a lot more permissive than his mom told him around his birthday that if he was good he would teach him how to make his favorite winter drink: The Grog.

A pirate drink. An adult drink. A _cool_ drink.

Everything was there and Lavi observed the ingredients trying to understand how his dad could make it, because, even without him there was a plan to follow. Wasn’t it? There were things to do. Stuff to clean. A dinner to eat and more important presents to open. It was Christmas… And his parents always arrived late.

It sure was that. Traffic. Rain. Work. _Life._

They would open the door any minute with even more presents to compensate the absence to which he was already used, and would ask, smiling, why he and his grandfather didn’t keep on with the party. Why did they wait? Why…?

A bottle of rum that was half gone. His eyes traveled through the rest of them and then back to the golden liquid. He picked it up and trying to remember how did the Grog smell, attempted to prepare the drink. A blindfolded decision that would keep busy that wandering mind of his. Away from the flower. Away from that _joke._

His hands moved mechanically and after two tries he dropped one of those precious glasses into the sink, breaking it.

-Whatever. -He mumbled to the nothing. -It’s not like I’ll ever be a bartender or anything. -

The taste of the alcoholic abominations remained in his mouth after he spitted them in the sink and frustrated, Lavi poured some more rum in another glass.

The house was starting to feel cold and he once heard from his dad that…“ _Half a glass_ _is the perfect amount_ _to warm up!”_

Fire cracking, sweetness, spice. He half expected it to taste like perfume did (not that he ever tasted it on purpose…) but instead he found it was not just nice but _great._ Half a glass and then half another; the cold was gone by then. He kept drinking until the bottle was empty but time remained still. The hours didn’t tick away.

“ _They’ll be back any moment. They’ll be back and I will say: “Sorry dad!””_

Warmth and darkness. A funny feeling in his throat that carried him to a dreamless, blessed sleep.

  
  


-Junior. -It sounded like someone was calling him from a megaphone. Did he fall asleep at class again? Man, he surely had to stop playing videogames so late at night. -Junior… -

“ _Ugh, I feel like I want to_ _ **die.”**_

_**Death** _ . With a D. With a d. “ _I’m sorry, there’s been an accident...”_

Lavi opened his eyes, feeling like there was sand or glass inside them. It stung in an acidic pain that made him close them back in a tight gesture, his hand flying back to cover them; turning into a fist that rubbed over his exhausted eyelids. 

- Junior, I need you to take a shower. I prepared a suit for you. We have to be there at seven. -With great effort Lavi opened his right eye, the shape of his grandfather acquiring clarity. The marks around his eyes darker, his wrinkles deeper. He seemed to have aged at least a century and the redhead pursed his lips as the regret from the night before crawled to meet his tongue. -Please. -

He sighed with an inappropriate burp in the middle and the spice traveled inside him to his eyes, making them tear  and burning his nostrils as he tried to let it go by other way.

-Sure. -His voice sounded so raspy he didn’t recognize himself at first, but another thought followed the petition of his grandfather. 

It wasn’t that he wanted him showered or suited up. It wasn’t that he didn’t scold him over the empty bottle or the broken glasses. It wasn’t even that he apparently ignored the fact that he fell asleep in a couch with the Christmas lights on...It was that he called him  _Junior._ Just like when he was a kid. 

The old man haven’t called him like that since he was twelve. 

-Junior? -Lavi repeated to himself at the empty room. 

  
  


The travel upstairs wasn’t easy and showering was almost an odyssey as every time he closed his eyes he felt like he was spinning down the longest grass hill in the world, but he managed. 

Dressing up was a little better, but the feeling of numbness made the action an alien concept that, when he finished made him wonder how he did it  in a lethargic surprise of a freshly awakened toddler . 

-We have to go. -Lavi’s grandfather was serious, but there wasn’t anything else to him. There was no anger, no sadness, no pain. There was nothing, but a tired formality that asked him for silent obedience. Something that he delivered, still inside his bubble of  hollowed existence . 

-Ok. -

Lavi didn’t ask where they were going. He didn’t ask about the lady in dark uniform and fair eyes that seemed out of a dream. He didn’t ask about his parents and as the silence grew heavy inside the black car with black windows they were in, he didn’t think in anything but how his presents remained wrapped under that huge tree. It was an abstract thought tho, like a Pollock painting. Some brushes here and there that were supposed to be feelings. Some splatters that represented objects in colorful nonsense.

One for every Christmas he lived. Some others for the things he wished. Some gone for the troubles he caused at his previous school; like gluing all Burrow’s belongings (his math teacher) to the ceiling, that was easily at reach for him by just standing on a chair. Hilarious for him, but apparently not much for Mr. Burrow.

Lavi recalled, as he closed his eyes that were protected by those dark sunglasses he found lying around his messy room, that Bak was so nervous he almost pissed himself when that kid, Wisely, opened the door to check out what they were doing. The memory making him smile. Nevertheless, the movement strained the muscles in his face and the redhead realized, with an anesthetized feeling, that it physically fucking hurt. His face resumed his serious demeanor immediately and again, in that cloud of nothing, he thought about how absurd it was that he never noticed it before. Was it because he was always smiling? Was he so used to the pain that was smiling? His face surely was tired. It was absurd.

-Junior, we have to get out. Come on. -Lavi opened his eyes again founding in the car’s door opened for him and a few meters away another door...and an aisle. He stepped out of the vehicle and, even with his height, he felt like the building was immense. The big arch that was the entrance dark, even with the yellow light in the middle of it and reminded him of a manor. A _haunted_ manor. Still, the redhead went up the stairs, the ceiling of the place stretching to the sky, towering over him like judgmental members of the bench at a trial that already decided he was guilty without hearing his reasons or his proofs. A carpet in a deep, aphotic green coated the ground, making his steps uncomfortably quiet. As if he wasn’t there. He hated it since he set foot over it; the color like a cursed moss that leaded to a witch’s hut. One where said witch would be waiting. Waiting to eat him like a plump kid after he stepped inside his house. The path hiding her true intentions among that quiet moss and those black flowers. Dark with a D...with…

“ _ **Death.”**_

-Lavi. -Lenalee was so close to his face that for the first time since he met her, he noticed how she smelled like flowers or fruit...or…

“ _Tea. It’s tea. She smells like Raspberry Zinger.”_ He knew that, because his mom used to…

“ _Don’t think about it.”_

-Do you need help with your tie? -Her eyes were dark, but Lavi saw in them the same dam that kept the water at bay. Why did she want to cry?

-My tie? -He repeated, letting her hold him by the suit’s lapel. A compulsive movement that eased the fabric just so her fingers would find again the fold and she could pull from it towards her and down.

-Yes. Yes, your tie dummy. -She was smiling, but her voice cracked in a high pitch that got lost as she bit her lower lip and pursed it. -You don’t know how to the knot, do you? -

Lenalee took the piece of cloth from his hand and he noticed that he’d carried it from his house. He bowed a little so she could put it around his neck; soft but quick movements that lead to a perfect Windsor knot that he recognized from all his failed attempts the first time he tried to do it on his own. She did it so quickly, making him understand that it was her that made it for her brother and not Komui’s doing.

-Thanks, Lena. -Lavi whispered afraid to break the silence in that haunted manor. -I’m not really good at this, you know my mother… -The phrase lost track of the meaning and his friend held the tie tight between both of her hands. She was shaking and the redhead stared at her dark hair with a pity that didn’t fully reach his heart.

“ _Don’t think about it.”_

-I’ll do it. -She mumbled. -I’ll always be here to do it, ok? I’ll do your tie every time you need it. -Then their eyes met over his sunglasses and she was crying.

“ _Why are you crying, Lenalee?”_ A sad smile got drawn over the tallest’ lips.

-Lena… -

-I promise! I promise I will! -A hug that kept him there. Tight and hard. It was as if she was afraid that letting go would make him crumble. -I promise, Lavi. I promise. -

“ _Promises means nothing. My dad promised and...”_ The thought got missing again in the mist of what he didn’t want to face. The mantra repeated once more. “ _Don’t think about it.”_

-We have to take a seat. -It was Yuu. A sympathetic look that he understood. Beside him was his girlfriend, Alma; holding his arm nervously.

-I’m sorry for your loss, Junior. -She smiled timidly. Not like Lenalee, but he got her message as well. Her eyes were red as well and he wondered why he had cried at all. Lenalee met his parents as well as Yuu but Alma…

Why was she sad?

Lavi nodded and Lenalee shot him another worried look that again, he tried to pacify with a smile that was barely there.

-It’s fine. I’m fine. -He touched her hands gently and turned to the path that would take him to the front benches of that ( ~~ _disgusting_~~ ~~)~~ cold place.

  
  


-Yuu? -Bashful call with a shy undertone of love. -Why didn’t you hug Junior? -

Kanda kept his eyes fixed on the back of Lavi’s head, the only orange spot easily identifiable. He pondered his answer and looked at Lenalee, who was too busy trying to keep her crying to herself. If he was going to hug someone there she would’ve been his first choice as with every sob she seemed about to faint.

Yuu felt Alma’s inquisitive eyes and closed his for a moment, as he let out his response as quietly as he could.

-I guess you could say I’m afraid of that... -A pause that had no more interruption than the crying of his adoptive father, who was so emphatic that cried even over people he didn’t know. -I’m afraid that...if I hug Junior… he will fall apart. And being honest...I don’t know how to put his pieces back. If I were him I wouldn’t want people to touch me or to touch others. -

  
  


Crowley was crying. Yuu’s father was crying. Lenalee was too, as well as the Chang’s (the three of them) and some other people he couldn’t recall knowing. Everyone was mourning the death ( _ **Death)**_ of Brighid and Richard. Strange names for people he called _mom_ and _dad._ Two loving parents, friends and distinguished members of the community. Two souls that were taken from them _too soon._ But god worked in mysterious ways, of course. And that was that.

“ _God?_ _ **(Death.)”**_

Lavi gave a quick glance to his grandfather, whose face remained as stoic as the night before. Not a single emotion there to name.

“ _Did god want this? Did he plan this?”_

-Jay Neugeboren wrote: “A wife who loses a husband is called a widow. A husband who loses a wife is called a widower. A child who loses his parents is called an orphan. There is no word for a parent who loses a child. That’s how awful the loss is.”...-The woman with short, blond hair and heavy American accent said at the front. A tiny notepad that looked like a dolls accessory on her hand as she read that quote.

Unknowing to Lavi, beside him his grandfather felt his heart twist. Lavi was sixteen. _Sixteen._ By his age, his mother already had her first premonition. What if he didn’t have them? Should he talk about that with him anyway? What should he say? “Look Junior, remember last night? I already knew they were dead. And you will too, or maybe not. You just have to touch a person or an object in a certain moment and you will see...”

See what? Misery? Angst? Suffering? _**Death?**_ Did he wanted his grandson...his _**only**_ grandson to carry that dreadful pain? To be scared of the moment? To be wondering if he would see the death of some random stranger or his own or his best friend’s?

No.

It was too much. Losing his parents was already too much. He couldn’t allow that. He _**wouldn’t**_ allow it. He would protect him.

-If there is a god, he is either cruel, blind or **Dead**. -He looked at the redhead and sighed. An urge to hug him like when he was a child creeping on him, making his arms tingle.

“ _But what if you hug him and he sees? Do you want him to see? Do you want him to see her mother dying breath? How her hand trembled over the_ _street_ _? How his father’s last words were her name? How she called for him and for her son?”_

It was late for Lavi to show he had _the gift_ but still, there was no proof that he _could_ _n’t_ be instead a late bloomer. He could still have it...there was no way to know. He couldn’t risk that chance. Until he, himself, was able to deal with it more properly he would keep his emotions out of the way. To _protect_ him. He was the only treasure he had left. The only piece of his daughter, the only legacy she left behind.

“ _Asthore.”_

-Sometimes that’s how it is, kid. -

  
  


It was absurd.

It was just laundry. _Clean_ laundry and yet… He was crying so hard he felt the air was being stabbed out of his lungs. There were no words, only screaming. The window that showed his backyard was broken, a strange hole punched through the glass as if it wasn’t a single piece. Lavi’s hand was bleeding, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t know how.

Over his bed was the last drop. The cause of his meltdown. The summoning for his feelings that so carefully were buried since that horrible last week.

It was a sock. Just one.

Ice cream cones over a hot pink background. Ice cream cones in a fluffy sock that he remembered buying with his father when he was nine. His mother always had cold feet and they thought that those were the perfect present for her. It was funny and it was bright and cute like her and now…

Now _she would_ _ **never**_ _use them again._

Was Death cold? Being six feet underground surely sounded like it. But he wouldn’t know. Not that his mother would, either. She and his father were cremated. There were only ashes to remember them. _Dust_.

The pain was unfathomable. It burned inside and out. It expanded and crushed everything inside him. It made him feel like breathing again was an impossible desire. He could hear his own voice coming out; a scary howl that got distorted into an animal sound that teared the humanity away from him and sent him close to insanity. Could the neighbors hear him? Would they know? Did he cared?

It didn’t matter as Lavi couldn’t make it stop.

He couldn’t just like he couldn’t stop throwing and punching and trashing that room that for sixteen years accumulated memories that were now nothing but ammunition to his tragedy.

-Junior! -He couldn’t hear him the first time, the screaming still too loud. -JUNIOR! -

Panting, Lavi turned to face his grandfather. Small, he stood in the doorway, his hands folded, hidden inside his long sleeves. He didn’t seem like he cried. Not even one bit. He didn’t look angry either and that, together with the serenity of his voice stirred something inside the redhead that rushed his anger into hate.

- _What? -_ Spiteful, poisoned. The eldest of the Bookmen raised his invisible eyebrows and trying to remain calm he answered in an steady tone that had nothing to guess.

-You should calm down. -Probably somewhere in their vocabulary there were worse words that could form even worst sentences, but even with that, those weren’t exactly the best to start a conversation with him.

- _Calm_? You want me to be _calm_? My parents are **Dead. DEAD.** Do you know what that means? **DO YOU KNOW?!** _ **-**_ The old man knew, but he stood his ground. He wasn’t the one that needed feelings and if he could, he would rip them out of his grandson as well. To save him.

-Junior… -

-IT MEANS I WILL NEVER SEE HER AGAIN. I WILL NEVER KNOW HOW TO MAKE THAT STUPID DRINK. THEY WONT BE THERE WHEN I GRADUATE. WHEN I GET MARRIED. THEY WONT BE AROUND EVER AGAIN! I’VE LOST THEM FOREVER. _**FOREVER! -**_

The sobbing made it harder to breathe. Lavi’s body trembled as he let himself fall to the ground, pulling his hair, that was a little too long and always got in his face according to his mother, trying to at least feel anything beside that emptiness. The crying was starting to fade and the numbness started to attack. He pulled again, trying to remain feeling as there wasn’t anything worse than losing himself into the nothing. Or...was it really that bad?

Maybe he would be better off there. In the nothing.

Inside the _(d)eath zone._

The same sad smile came back to him, a twisted curve that descended into something that his grandpa recognized and hated: Misery.

-I’m never going to marry anyway. Love is a fucking lie. -

-Lavi… -

-If they loved me, why did they leave me behind? I was supposed to go, but mamma… Mamma, she… -His eyes started to burn again and he moved his nose up and down. A scared rabbit that smelled the air as it tried to live another day. To remain sane. -She told me… -Lavi’s voice started waving and his grandfather held his own forearms under his sleeves; nails digging in his thin flesh. He could not touch him. He had to keep him safe. -She told me to stay… She said they wouldn’t be long. She said they loved me… -

The certainty hit him and the old man pursed his lips. She knew. And just like him she wanted to protect what she loved most in the world: Her only son.

-I’ll be downstairs. If you need anything… I’ll be taking down the Christmas… -

**-** **DON’T TOUCH IT.** -Desperation was something that hung loose to what that scream expressed. He forced to look back at him and swallowed heavy as his hand held his entire existence to the door frame. -Don’t touch it. It was the last thing we did together, please. Please don’t touch it... -

Lavi’s hair was pulled up and sideways, as if he went right through a wind tunnel. His eyes, with that same peculiarity as his mother’s had fright and wretchedness in them; swimming in a grief so awful that was one step short from madness. His neck had long, red marks that he identified as his own doing and as his sight went down to check on his hands he noticed a trail of blood that guided him to his left. A quick glance to the window gave the elder the answer he needed and summoning all the willpower he owned and some that he borrowed from other lives he unclenched his jaw to speak.

-That’s ok. We’ll leave it there, until you feel like it. -

  
  


April. It was April when he felt like it.

He arrived late and, as it was already a habit for him, drunk. He sat in front of the tree, as he would’ve done that Christmas when his parents died. The presents remained there, now dusty, as Lavi refused to even allow anyone near them. His eyes went from one to the other under the faint light of a carnival glass lamp that was near, but not that much, and he chose one. He recognized the tag that his mother used to put in all the gifts she wrapped. A pink bunny with the tongue out and big, blue cartoon eyes with three black eyelashes in each one. Lavi touched the tag affectionately and with all the delicacy a drunk teenager could have, he opened the gift his mother left for him against his customs. Starting off with the smallest one: black paper with golden stars.

After some moments of struggling the redhead touched a soft, rectangular thing that he had to pull closer to the lamp to understand. Since touching it only told him that it was made from some kind of fabric that, when it slid down his fingers with a characteristic sensation, his lazy brain labeled as silk. When he pulled it out, freeing it finally from the wrapping, a dry noise touched the floor, asking for his attention and pulling it away from the present.

It was a note: _“Keep your hair away from that handsome face, Asthore! I’m sure your future spouse will fall for that eyes of yours. At least it worked with your father! -_ _Love you,_ _Mom.”_

Love.

What a stupid little word.

A bandanna. He had spend so many days crying that maybe, he dried his eyes out.

-I guess this was a bumpy sleigh ride, Mom. -He held the bandanna against his chest and decided that everything else, should’ve remained untouched in a closet. Out of his sight and his feelings. Away from his soul. -I don’t think I can love anymore. Will you forgive me, wherever you are? -He pushed the back of his hand, where a line from when he punched his window was starting to fade over his pale skin, against his nose, sniffing. The closest he could get to cry by then. -You know mom, I’m tired of trying to iron out my creases. I’m a bunch of broken pieces… It was you who made me whole. Every day Panda’s staring at me like all “Hurry up, get happy. Move along. Forget about your mom.” And I don’t think I can ever do that. -

Lavi smiled again with that sad feature that was so frequent now on his face, that he was sure he could never get rid of it. Any other way of doing it forgotten. And as his eyes kept tracing the last message he had read from his parents a few drops started again to fall, fading the letters around the last line.

-Look at that. Maybe I don’t know how to love anymore, but apparently I still can cry. -

  
  


  
  


-Have I told you that I love you, my Love? -Allen’s gray eyes found his and a spark that was so wonderful that made him want to scream, lit them. He let that little smile of his, show, his pretty lips parting and making him look younger as his teeth peeked behind them. Still, he kept covering it with his right to hide it, but not as badly as he did when they met. His cheeks were bright pink and Lavi thought that it was adorable that even when they had years together he still kept blushing like that whenever he was praised or told he was loved.

-Not today. -His words carried that musical tone he got whenever he was happy and the redhead felt his heart swollen with the passionate affection he held for him.

-I love you. I love you a lot. I love you so much I could explode. -Allen giggled and directed his attention to a book that he wasn’t reading anymore but that allowed him to release some of the bubbling feeling he got whenever Lavi told him that. His dimples getting marked on both of his cheeks as he pushed his face against the sleeve of his sweater.

-Yeah? -For the untrained ear he might’ve sounded uninterested, but for Lavi...Oh, he _knew_ he was about to burst in that nervous laugh that exposed his embarrassment. -Well, I love you too, handsome. I love you so much I could let you have that last piece of strawberry shortcake that waits inside the fridge for me to eat it. -

-Really? Then you surely love me. As far as I know, Snowflakes never let other people eat their food. -Lavi left his phone aside and slowly crawled over the bed until he pushed Allen’s book away; getting over the silver haired and pinning him against his fluffy covers. -What did I do to deserve such an honor, your majesty? -

Allen giggled again and let him do, enjoying his weight over him.

-Nothing. I love you because you are you. -He whispered after a kiss. -But I have to admit, those eyes? -His hand touched his cheek lightly and Lavi smiled back, fondly. -Don’t tell my fiancé, but I have to confess they really have this thing that makes me want to marry you and somehow be naked with you at the same time. -

-Well, then why don’t we… -His hand went under his clothes and Allen bit his own lower lip in anticipation. -…follow that feeling of yours? -

Lavi kissed him below his ear, marking a trail of kisses down his neck to his collarbone.

-I would like that, very much. -

  
  


“ _Mamma, you always knew._ _In the end I did love someone and I promise, he_ _ **is**_ _every inch of special as you imagined for me._ _”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It's me...I’m truly sorry about disappearing. Before my long explanation about why this happened, I will clarify some notes on the chapter:
> 
> -The pen https://antiquedigger.com/products/circa-1915-mabie-todd-swan-fancy-gold-overlay-eyedropper-fountain-pen-with-f-bbb-flexible-nib?variant=1842842042392
> 
> -I like flowers so I chose some of them to specially appear in this chapter. The Hemlock is a small but poisonous flower that is perennial and is also known as the Devil’s flower. While the one that Lavi thinks about is a Dracula Raven Orchid. It belongs to a family of other Dracula Orchids, but this is considered the blackest one. It really means death and I thought it was appropriate for the moment. I wish to write a flower shop themed Laven one day, but that will have to wait a little longer.
> 
> -I tried to link this chapter to several things that happened in Crybaby. Maybe it’s hard to notice them as I took so long to update but I’ll refresh them for you:  
> 1) Kanda doesn’t like to be touched because he associate that with breaking down. His father (Tiedoll) is a very affectionate man and hugging made him feel like there was a place to cry which he hated. He was afraid of doing that to Lavi so he didn’t touch him, but when Alma died, Lavi did. Making him feel like he had no other choice but crumbling down. This is also part of why he has a hard time communicating with Allen and why he is… well… a jerk.  
> 2) Lavi let Yuu punch him and almost kill him when they were 18 because he realized that his grandfather knew about his parents death before it happened and did nothing yet, when he did something Alma ended up dying anyway. Understanding Yuu’s pain made him feel accountable and he let him get out his anger even if that meant he would kill him.  
> 3) The funeral is the event what makes Lenalee decide to study psychology. She thought of Lavi as a younger brother, seeing him like that made her never wanting to feel that lost and unable to help as then.  
> 4) This was the glue prank that got him expelled from his previous high-school. Where he studied with Bak. He didn’t know Wisely much.  
> 5) It was his parents funeral what made Lavi stop believing in anything.  
> 6) The Panda was truly an amazing thing to write. He sometimes seems a little hard on Lavi in Crybaby and I wanted you to know that even when he wasn’t always that soft he loved his grandson more than anything.  
> 7)I know death is a touchy theme for some people. I’ve been used to it since I was quite young and in a way I wanted to portray the different perception of it with Lavi, Kanda, the Panda and Lenalee. Death, for me is similar to love in a way that we all understand it differently and no matter how other’s talk about it, it lies on us how we interpret it. I hope it didn’t hurt you, but let you see it through other’s eyes.  
> 8) I decided to name Lavi’s parents as I had to use some other unnamed family and I didn’t want you guys to feel it impersonal (?). I chose Brighid since she’s a Goddess in Celtic culture (of the hearth and home, and of divination and prophecy.) and Richard since it was a fairly popular name in the UK around the 60’s + when Lavi arrives to the Order in DGM manga his previous alias is Dick/Deak so… yeah. I sort of hope you like them, Original Characters in fanfics honestly make me nervous as I always feel they don’t match the others.
> 
> I'll post the reason why I was gone in a comment since...I don't have that many characters left in this box.


	5. I wonder as I wander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wonder as I wander out under the sky  
> How come we keep finding each other, you and I?  
> I wonder as I wander out under the sky  
> If I love you or if this is just the saddest lie. 
> 
> It’s Christmas again and for his dismay also his birthday.   
> Allen see the time ticking away and thinks about how can’t it go any faster; his memories of how things has been for him there. 
> 
> A street, a lamp, a gift. Real and Metaphorical places.
> 
> [W A R N I N G] This is really important so please, don’t skip it. This chapter has what I think its mild (but you could feel it otherwise) non-con sex. Also, PTSD, and NSFW.

Allen checked the time again. A mindless thought really.

The bar was almost deserted and the absence of his regulars so close to the weekend made him feel uneasy. He had been drying a glass that already squeaked every time he passed the rag inside it, voicing the agony of having to be scrubbed once again for nothing. If it had skin, it would’ve probably peeled off by then.

A coin singed inside his tip jar, making him turn. The name of the rune that called for him in a way that no one  else  could’ve understand.

-A penny for your thoughts, honey. -Jerry was resting against the bar. His tall and slim figure a paragon of fashion itself. His wonderful lavender hair was in a loose half up style; a lazy braid that opened enough in each twist to look like a wave pinned it in place. Every filament so soft and vibrant that it felt like a supernatural buttercream from heavens. For a while, Allen wondered how he maintained it so uniform. All bright and colorful no matter which day of the year it was. Almost as if it grew like that.

Nevertheless, Allen was someone that kept his questions to himself. As life had taught him that some of them were never welcomed…no matter which his intentions were.

-What’s on your mind, cutie? You’ve been so quiet... And I dare to say, anxious. Do you want to leave? Is it because its your birthday? I thought you said you didn’t want anything special. –

Like _that_ one.

He smiled, trying to pull the attention of his boss out of the matter. A sweet, condescending smile that Jerry recognized; his eyelashes moving quickly as his eyes went from his to his mouth.

“ _Oh no. I know that_ _one_ _.”_

-What? _No._ What do you mean? - _Control_. One perfect word after the other. Every syllable pronounced with the skill of a guy that knew his game. Rehearsed to perfection over the silver tongue of the leading actor.

The tallest, tanned man, sighed. He knew Allen for about a year by then, but it wasn’t that it mattered. It wasn’t enough time to know him. To _understand_ him. He doubted that ten years would be enough to get him…If he _didn’t_ want that. Allen was someone that _allowed_ people inside him and well…apparently, he _wasn’t_ one of the lucky ones.

“ _Yet.”_

-It’s your birthday, _hot stuff_? -A charismatic voice said. As the soft noise of his _fancy_ clothes moving arrived at his ears, he rolled his eyes, knowing who the owner of such privileged sound was.

This time, Jerry was using _real_ prescription glasses, perfect twin circles that slid down his nose with the motion of his head and augmented the yellow stitches of that _obviously_ expensive jacket. Usually, he wouldn’t have anything against the man. Hell, if it was with any other employee, he probably would’ve allowed it…but with Allen…

-It is! -He exaggerated his tone on purpose, his long eyelashes ticking as he blinked. -Would you believe this little cutie pie doesn’t want anyone to know? –

For the untrained eye he knew it looked like he was encouraging him. But no. He wanted him out and far away from his conversation. He wanted that man to know that he was there and had no intention of leaving him alone with that precious kid. Allen pursed his lips. Tight pressure on them until they were nothing but a thin white line. Then, after a look that said it all, he smiled to the man with the dangerous yellow eyes and the smell of death impregnated in his clothes.

-It’s nothing. -He told him in his customers tone.

Jerry _adored_ that tone. He would be a fool if he did anything else but loving it.

It was  _that_ tone that filled his place every single day since that kid started working for him.

Allen wasn’t the only one of his employees that could make a decent drink, but he was the _only_ one that could shoot a smile and have a _dozen_ of grown men _drooling_ and spending money for a crumble of his attention.

Yet, at the moment, he felt it like a sting over his heart. A lonely bee that lost its way back home and hopeless, decided to share its misery with him. Stinging and injecting a poison that burned like his first time with Fireball Whiskey.

- _Nothing? -_ He repeated in disbelief. Words that came out like a breath, without thinking. How could he say _nothing_ like that? Like…like it was _true_? Jerry didn’t know the story of Allen’s childhood. He didn’t know about them abandoning him near a subway station or how he was raised by a man that was far away from being family and instead was closer to a pimp. He didn’t even knew about how he now lived with a problematic punch-first-ask-later kind of boyfriend. And perhaps it was that what made him talk or perhaps, he would’ve done it anyway. Already hooked at the love he had for that kid that was only comparable to the one of a mother. -I think your birth was a _blessed_ day, sweetie. And you should too. You are an angel. –

The silver haired smiled again at him. This time with a genuine one. Warm light that hit a window and tenderly touched your features in a cold afternoon. A sunflower. A star.

Jerry wanted to hug him, but he was aware of how little the boy appreciated physical contact; returning him the smile instead.

-I second that. -The man flirted. If he wasn’t one of the regulars… -But well, it’s getting late and I bet you’ll be _dying_ to go to home and have a wonderful dinner with your family. -It wasn’t obvious but for an instant, if not a blink, Allen’s smile was washed away to let a worrisome frown appear. A flash and it was gone. Like a _glitch_ that lasted a second. If you closed your eyes it was gone before you could call it. -Happy birthday and Merry Christmas, you are truly a _gift_ to the world. –

Allen didn’t reply as the guy touched his cheek lightly. It was part of the strategy of a great player, Jerry supposed. He never told them that he was interested and sometimes, if they were good, he didn’t tell them he _wasn’t_ interested either. The omission of the truth not being precisely a lie. Don’t you think?

Other bartender would look into the jar as soon as the man, that he recognized as one of the _Lords_ of that infamous crime family, left. But not Allen. He kept moving glasses around and washing one or two things that, as far as he was concerned…were already clean enough. If he had to guess, he would say he was _nervous._

-Sweetie pie, are you sure you are ok? -Allen turned and sprayed himself with the hose they used to clean-pressure the glasses. His face in an adorable frown as he spitted some of it into the drain.

-Yeah…Yes. It’s ok. –He tried to shrug it, but Jerry was an attentive man and as the hours passed and the bar got more and more lonely, he knew his time had ran out.

“ _You don’t look ok.”_ His boss thought and his expression showed. Just his cue for the door in those tender eyes that made him feel guilty.

Maybe if he talked with him about it...

“ _Do you want him to pity you? Come on. Don’t be ridiculous. He is your boss. This is too personal. What kind of person would do that? Zip it and it’s time to go.”_

_-_ You know what, you are right…-He started. A futile hope that passed rushed like a  falcon in midflight inside the other’s head. -I should be leaving. It’s already late anyway and there’s no one left. Tyki was our last costumer. –

And it was gone.

Jerry surrendered. It wasn’t the time. He took the black jar of his tips and a bill with a one and two zeros appeared to greet him among the others, making him raise his eyebrows.

“ _That jerk. You are not going to fuck him. He is not a cheap whore. He is a darling!”_ A random thought as he reached to his pocket to put another of the same value there. If only to take the meaning of the first one away. He delivered into those perpetually gloved hands of his favorite employee (Was that bad to have a favorite? Even parents had their own.). And observed as the kid’s face lighted with joy as he took out the money.

-Well, happy birthday dear. Be good ok? -Jerry couldn’t bare it. Allen’s smile was just too big. Too pure. The tallest pulled him and hugged him in an impulsive gesture that would torment him until he saw him again; afraid that he had upset him. Was it too bad wanting to adopt Allen? He was still a child in his eyes. If he ever felt like he needed it, if he wanted…he could…

-I can’t breathe…! –The silver haired complained in a half choked laugh.

-Oh! I’m sorry. Have a merry Christmas too, honey. -A kiss on his head.

Allen counted the money with gleaming eyes and said goodbye, waving his hand.

“ _I’ll be here. If you ever want to talk.”_ A final thought that maybe, in another world would’ve changed the story.

But not in this one.

  
  


Overthinking was a daily function. Like breathing or blinking.

For Allen, it was such a natural state of his mind that even imagining that somewhere in another head there were spaces amid quiet and peace was so impossible, it even sounded like lunacy.

A thought that evolved into twenty. A voice that never knew silence if it wasn’t overflowing with guilt. That was the daily tunes of his always occupied mind. He never talked much, but as he grew older, he did it less and less. Once, when he was still a kid, Cross told him how everyone had limited words and, once he reached his assigned number he would never be able to talk again. At first, it was an scary thought that haunt him and accomplished his stepfather’s intentions of keeping him completely quiet. But then time passed and that strange superstition grew roots slowly in his brain, hugging him so lightly and comfortably that he ended up liking it as he got older.

Silence was gold and after all, he did have a thing for money.

Yet, silence was something that barely graced the actual inside of his head. That, like a completely separate being from him, kept rambling and rambling about things he wished he could just let go.

“ _You worried your boss. He’s going to start asking questions.”_

It was cold outside and he hugged himself as the heat left his body. He had a dry shirt on as he carried spare clothes to change after his work but still, the water that sprayed him before he left the bar had left his hair wet. Making him shiver a little. Allen didn’t want to worry Jerry, but every tic of that clock over the wall that he kept staring at the bar was a tic closer to the end of that _horrible_ day. And boy...didn’t he need that!

His eyes raised as a streetlight blinked. The lamp that confirmed his right choice of route to the apartment there; a lighthouse that guided him safely in the dark winking at him in recognition. It was something that he checked every day in a constant and needed reassurance that he wasn’t getting lost...again.

It had been a year since he took that path from Yuu’s place to Jerry’s and back again, but… He _needed_ to be sure. Allen usually got lost everywhere. It wasn’t even that he tried or that he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings, he just got lost from a moment to the next.

For him places where something that had to remain in the exact same way for him to remember them. If they changed a color, a shape, a little detail like a trashcan or a door...he would get lost. That detail was enough for him to look at everything with new eyes. Was that store always there? Was he going in the right direction? He couldn’t know. The detail in which he relied was changed and then, he didn’t know where everything was. Maybe there were other things that were changed or maybe it was an entire different place.

It was probably the paintings or at least that was what he told himself, afraid that he had some kind of mental issue that prevented him from remembering such basic things like directions or streets. Paintings, that he always saw as parts that made a whole and not a whole that could be separated in parts; so when he stared at some place he could only see strokes of a brush that were here and there and made a thing. A detail. A reference. And for that, he always chose from three to five different objects to remember if he had already been there. Like talismans to guide him to safety.

Wasn’t that better than getting lost and having Kanda looking for him as he sat afraid in the middle of strangers and their looks that would judge him? Getting lost would also bother Yuu since he probably was tired too and it was already late. What if he was busy or relaxing at home and he asked him to pick him up? He would surely get mad at him and Allen hated that.

So it was better to check that lamp, hoping every time for it to remain there. Vigilant and helpful, even kind to him. Like an inanimate friend.

“ _Did you hear that? Someone is whispering. Are they talking about you? Sure they are. White hair and that strange face_ _with a horrible scar in the middle_ _. I’m sure they’re mocking you.”_

He slightly crouched. His hands inside his pockets after he got sure the hoodie he was wearing covered half of his features. The snow crunched beneath his feet as he moved and it was a loud sound in the middle of an almost empty street that Allen hated with a nervous and paranoid feeling that quickly spread through his body; like thousand of starving ants. Their little legs tickling as they walked inside his skin, biting here and there looking for the sweets crumbs of the happiness he didn’t deserve to feel.

Allen didn’t want to get home early, but then again, he didn’t feel like wandering around known places since it was _that_ season.

The most dreadful time of the year.

Christmas.

“ _Do you think they saw you? I’m sure they did. You always feel safer in that little bar of yours with Jerry and his protective vibe t_ _hat_ _you so desperately want to cling on_ _to_ _but… outside? Outside people can see how strange and disgusting you are.”_

A group of girls passed quickly with colorful bags that danced like Easter eggs in the middle of the whiteness. Floating specters of spring that carried inside them amazing gifts given by loving people they knew. Moving around as they swung them with their cheerful steps; toning down their happy conversation into hushed murmurs as soon as they got closer to him on the street. He started to walk faster. His crossbody bag slightly hitting his leg as he clenched the strap with his gloved hands; that weren’t like that because of the cold. In fact, Allen’s favorite season was winter, with the cold clearing the streets and giving him back the energy that summer took away with its heat. The thing was that he just couldn’t stand the sight of his own, reddened skin that attracted so many unwanted looks. Looks that sometimes, he was sure could see through the fabric.

“ _Oh look at that!” “How awful.” “Poor kid. Surely he got burnt in an accident.” “Disgusting.” “Ew, what’s that!”_ Scurried palms that pulled away, so tall and mighty against their owners chests. So superior. So _clean_.

His hand didn’t had anything _wrong_ per sé. As it didn’t hurt him or caused him any troubles beside… well beside being absolutely repulsive. It was a bit more sensitive than his _normal_ right one but, aside from that it just had the disgrace of looking monstrous.

“ _That’s it! Monstrous._ _Luckily_ _for you, your stepfather has so many friends that were more interested in skills than in looks, don’t you think_ _ **Star**_ _Student?”_

An impulsive movement that was a reflex. His hand flew from its tensed, assigned place against the strap of his bag to touch his face. Did they see the scar? Of course they did. It was carved from the line of his hair to his chin. It was impossible to miss. He bit his lower lip in an involuntary gesture that would follow him his entire life; tasting so much like blood that a light alarm in his brain made him release it. Only to check it with a touch of his finger, a quick glance over the gloves to look for a stain that wasn’t there. The sting of the abused skin a slight comfort, something he could tie to his usual routine. To his _normal_ invisible life. A pain that carried comfort.

He stared at his hand again as he kept walking in an automatic route, sure now that he was blessed by the sight of his security lamp.

Under the textile, over his left, a red mark that went all the way up his shoulder extended like spilled wine. As far as he remembered he had always had it and as far as he knew it was nothing more than a horrible birth mark that he hated.

Back when he was younger he wasn’t really aware of it, as it was only another part of his normality that he never thought about. But as it usually happened, when he grew up he found out that it was not only abnormal but _disgusting._

The word echoed with the terrible voice that tormented him. He made a fist that was then held against his racing heart with his other hand; holding his left by the wrist. A wind that looked for lonely travelers shook him away from his thoughts, if only a second to give him another, crueler than the first. A crunch like a trigger for it, summoning his constant fear.

“ _You know what? I think someone is following you. Could that be your stepdad?”_

His heart started pounding faster.

“ _Was that his voice?”_ He turned into an alley that he knew if only by luck, and started walking hurried, checking once or twice into the walls and the floor and how the shadows stretched over them. Was someone really following him? Was it only just his imagination? He couldn’t hear a sound over the beating inside his head.

“ _Boom, boom, boom._ _Can you run away, really?”_ Another hasty turn that allowed him to hide in a small porch. Gray walls with a burnt out bulb that covered him in protective shadows. Allies to his misfortune.

The same wind that preyed upon him passed through then, lifting a can or two of discarded sodas, dragging lost leaves from the trees that stood firmly against the merciless cold; taunting him.

The beating continued, decreasing the rhythm but never the strength, and Allen sighed, feeling something between embarrassment because of that whole theater that he created inside his head and relief...because it wasn’t actually happening. Yet, if anyone would’ve had the patience to ask him, he would’ve said that he wasn’t scared of Cross. He was just… not _that_ excited to meet him again so quickly. It was just that seeing him involved work and…he didn’t want to upset Yuu again.

  
  


They had barely a year dating and Allen was for the first time, invited into one of the fancy galas that sometimes were held at the Lao Shimin. An event hall that was famous for its exclusivity, but that luckily was also owned by a friend of Yuu’s adoptive father. Who incidentally was an artist. One that was more than excited to have someone to talk about art as well as to have an excuse to take his son with him to such things.

-You are an adorable boy. Do you paint as well? Yuu never wanted anything to do with art, can you believe it? -Tiedoll talked a lot, but Allen was too grateful to even thinking in refusing conversation with the man. Not to mention that he was _awfully_ kind.

-Sometimes. But I don’t have a lot of time between work and school. -He smiled as he gave a sip to the drink he was given a few moments after they entered the place, his left eyebrow twitching a bit as he recognized a messy mix when he tasted it. His job impossible to forget whenever he was close to alcohol.

-That’s a shame. I can't think of anything more rewarding than being able to express yourself to others through painting. Exercising the imagination, experimenting with talents, being creative; these things, to me, are truly the windows to your soul… -There was silence between them, but one that made Allen comfortable as both observed one of the exhibited paintings.

-Professor, they’re looking for you at the main hall. Miss Faye needs to talk to you, if you don’t mind. -Allen observed the exchange with the glass against his lips, the cooling sensation of it making him feel protected against so many new people.

Yuu wasn’t too far, or at least, that was what he guessed; his eyes wandering around the place trying to spot him. He said that he would be back soon so…

-I don’t think we have met. My name is Bak Chang. -He wasn’t really tall, but had a gentle smile and warm eyes that instantly made Allen want to like him. He was wearing a white suit that even when it contrasted so brightly with the others, made him look approachable.

-Oh, hi. -Timidly, he took the hand that was offered to him. Shaking it lightly. -I’m Allen… Walker. -The pause between his name and his last name making him cringe internally at his own failure.

-Nice to meet you! Is this the first time in this events? -Bak didn’t look like he was judging him, instead he sounded genuinely curious, making him lower his defenses if it just a little.

-Yes, is it that obvious? -The other man smiled at him and as he talked through his answer, he allowed himself to turn to the painting that Tiedoll and Allen were admiring before his arrival.

-Not in a bad way. It’s just that everyone that hangs around this sort of things doesn’t care about the paintings. It’s more a business and free booze kind of thing. You know? -The blond sighed, his light eyes traveling through the canvas. An inspection that Allen recognized as the one of an arts curator. -And you seem really interested. Do you like Kosztka? -

-I like his approaches. It was interesting seeing the dual representation of god and the devil in The Old Fisherman, but I have the feeling that he also hid things among his other works. Like in Rendez-vous of Lovers… Don’t you feel like there’s something else there? There’s supposed to be a lake, but the reflection shows another mountain. As if it extended down instead of being water. And the angel is sleeping, like he wouldn’t care about the couple that doesn’t seem being happy. More like discussing. But a rendezvous it’s a secret meeting between lovers...-The different hue of gray of each other’s eyes clashed and the silver haired laughed nervously noticing that perhaps he sounded like a _snob_. Ruining his chance of making a friend in the very same media that he so eagerly wanted to enter. -I’m sorry, I talked too much. I’m just an art history student. I’m not even sure that means anything. It’s barely an opinion. -

-Just a student..? -Bak seemed puzzled for a second; his stare switching from a side to the other in a quick flash that evidenced his confusion but that soon left to give space to an excited and friendly smile that Allen thanked. -How come are you here? Not that I mind such a smart take after so many boring “ _uh it’s pretty”_ statements when I ask, of course. -His voice was hilariously mocking under the repetition he heard for so many years.

-Well, I’m… -He saw the other look behind him, his benignant and attentive expression changing for a concerned glance that made him turn to follow it. Worried that there was a problem.

-I’m sorry Allen, I would like to talk more with you but… -In the distance a tall, sort of vampire-looking man was holding a potted plant like it was a souvenir, walking in a disarrayed manner that the youngest of the two recognized as the tipsy steps of a drunk. -I have to take care of something. Is it ok if we exchange numbers? I would like to meet again and discuss Mr. Kosztka, if you like, of course. -

Allen nodded, the other already pulling his phone and lending it to him; an elegant device that was so thin that he feared breaking. As surely, it costed more than a year of his salary at Jerry’s. Bak never seemed worried, offering him a carefree expression that instead of easing his spirit, only propelled his anxiety.

Secretly, he prayed for the screen to recognize his touch without having to remove the gloves, not wanting to leave a bad impression in his _possibly_ new friend. His hands were trembling but, even when it was noticeable, Bak didn’t mention it; winning an instant liking and gratitude from him.

-Here it is. You can send me a message so I can save yours. -He gave it back, a light blush over his cheeks as the excitement of making a new bond took over him. After all the time he stayed in the dark, away from people his age. Bak seemed nice and he knew about art. And if that wasn’t enough, he didn’t seem disgusted or even interested in his scar. Always looking at him at the eyes and never making a remark on any of the things that made him feel insecure.

-I will! Now if you… -

-Beansprout, where were you? We need to go. -Yuu was holding his arm, the unexpected and hard touch making him jump.

-Yuu! I… I was just talking with… -His boyfriend was really close and Allen couldn’t ignore how handsome he looked dressed in a suit and with his bangs pushed back. Even when he rarely smiled, his face was an architectural wonder. Straight lines that converged with barely noticeable curves like a cathedral or the leaned tower. He wanted to kiss him but…

-Chang. -His eyelids dropped into that proud expression of despise he recognized as the “ _loser’s stare”_. One reserved for those students at the gym that would run their mouth about defeating him, only to end up at the floor one movement later. His tone so charged of unwanted presence that made him wonder if it could be hate. -Are you hitting on him? -

The blond and Allen looked at each other. He stared with a puzzled question while alarm conquered Bak’s gray as he heard such allegation.

-Kanda. No. I’m just being _friendly_. Not that you would know the meaning of that word. -He was red to his ears, his words coming out a little higher pitched that he intended, round marks that started to appear over his skin.

- _Friendly_ _?_ He’s blushing and you were asking for his number, don’t make me laugh. -The hand around his arm got tighter, starting to hurt. The silver haired pondered mentioning it, but the violent vibe around his lover warned him against it. After all, he _understood_ his outburst. He _indeed_ asked for _his_ number and the last time he saw him, he was still _safe_ with his father-in-law. It was _logical_ that he got upset. It was _**his**_ fault. He just _didn’t know_ how to navigate himself in such environments…

-You know how to laugh? Now that’s a surprise. -Bak crossed his arms, one of his eyes twitching in a nervous tic that Allen noted. Was he scared or angry? -Look, no offense, but even as pretty as Allen is, I’m not into guys and… -

-Whatever. We have to go. -Kanda pulled him and started walking, leaving the blond with nothing more than a wave. Allen hoped, not without some guilt, that Bak would ignore his boyfriend and call him, as he seemed to be a good person. It had been some time by then and he still hadn’t found friends at his school. He loved Lenalee, but having a friend that knew about art just like him, sounded… nice.

  
  


-It’s everything ok? -He didn’t feel he had the courage to ask Kanda if he was angry with him, so he chose the next safest question he could think about.

-No. -Yuu wasn’t looking at him. Instead, his dark eyes scanned the place with a predator feeling that made his stomach turn inside him. What could’ve made him so upset? Was it something that he did? Something he said? Did he embarrassed him? -Junior! -

Allen had met the redhead that spring and after that, had seen him almost every week either at their place or at school. It was a weird sensation, like he unlocked a character in a game and was now tied to encounter him until something else happened. It wasn’t that he hated it, but Lavi… Well, he had something… Something that made him feel strange and that… That was a different thing.

-Hey Yuu, what’s up? -He turned at the same time than the shortest of the trio, their eyes finding each other so quick it left the sensation of two opposite ends of some lost magnets. - _Allen_! -

People called him by different names. Some of them were cruel. Some of them were silly, some other were only his name, pronounced with a feeling or another. But the way Lavi said it, made Allen hate it and love it in an equally heated way that after months, he still couldn’t name.

-Keep an eye on him, I’ll be back. **Don’t leave him alone, Junior.** -Yuu didn’t ask him if he was ok with his decision, but the silver haired assumed he knew what was best and saw him walk away. Leaving him with a disappointed expectation of at least, getting a kiss on the cheek or if that was _too much_ to ask, maybe squeezing his hand. But that was how Kanda was and he thought that it was fine. He didn’t have the right to ask him to change or to ask for more.

-Gladly. -His friend was already gone when he said it, but the redhead didn’t mind. The statement was mostly to himself and if luck favored him, for Allen to hear. -Hi _pretty face_ , how you doing? -

It wasn’t flirting _flirting._ It was just flirting “flirting” He thought back then. As if someone like Lavi would flirt with him. As if someone like _that_ could _ever_ look his way and think more of him than a simple way to entertain themselves.

-Lavi, cut it out. -He answered drinking the rest of the liquid that was starting to get warm inside his glass. Allen was smiling, his teeth clicking softly against the crystal as he moved too fast trying to cover his mouth. It didn’t matter how many times he talked to him like that, he still couldn’t tame the furious blush that rebelled against him.

The redhead wasn’t wearing anything formal. Instead, he had a casual pair of black, ripped jeans that had twin holes at the knees and an olive shirt that had the short sleeves a little rolled up, showing his _amazing_ arms. The color of it combining curiously with his ankle height vans, white shoelaces that gave light to it. It wasn’t even _close_ to the event etiquette and Allen felt a little strange noticing that even when he dressed like that, he looked _way_ better than anyone else. His own black suit feeling too hot suddenly. Was it too much? Lavi seemed more comfortable than everybody.

-What? I’m just asking. I want to be sure you feel as great as you look. -The tallest earned a playful eye roll that only left his mood when he observed Kanda talk to someone that he couldn’t see. Aggressive body language that immediately put him back to square one in anxiety lane. -Don’t worry, I’m sure Yuu is fine. -Lavi smiled, trying to calm him and touched the same place where his boyfriend held him a few moments before. His touch sweet and gentle even over the fabric of his jacket. -Do you want to try some of the food at the snack table? Maybe there’s something you’ll like. -

-I don’t know. -Fear sneaking out from his attempted disinterest.

-He won’t get angry at you. -The redhead pointed at his best friend with a head gesture and smiled a little more. Apparently reading his insecurities like an open book. -I promise. Boy scout honor. -

A hand over his temple like a military salute that finally made him turn to face him.

-You were a scout? -The concept so strange to him that for a second made him forget about the situation.

-No, but I know one. So I sometimes take his honor borrowed. -He laughed while Allen passed a hand through his silver hair previously pushed back, the gesture pulling down some curled strands that made Lavi wonder if the shortest had natural waves that he hid.

-You’re a dork. -They started walking and Lavi brushed his hand against his. Not that it meant anything, but either way the gesture brought with it that jingling feeling inside his chest. -Do you think they’ll have dangos? -

-Dangos? -He grabbed his wrist, his fingers sneaking under his dress shirt in a skillful movement that intensified his blush. It was his right, so he didn’t tug away from it. Not knowing why he let him do.

-It’s...it’s a snack. Made of rice flour. There’s a Japanese place near the school that has them. -Thinking about anything else felt impossible. He never liked much being touched but Lavi’s hand was too kind to push away. The strength he needed to achieve that fleeting from his muscles.

-Mh. Is it good? -He was focused on their path and Allen allowed himself a peek or two to his artistic features. It was only professional interest, nothing more.

-It’s my favorite. -Mumbling. Yuu hated that.

-I don’t think they have, but since it’s Allen’s favorite I can’t wait to try them too! -A smile that offered to shine every aspect of his life, like a sun. A sun that soon was eclipsed by the dark shadow of his boyfriend as he arrived again. His grip closing around the same spot than before in an unintentional mishap that Allen knew would leave a mark as his skin complained with the painful song of a bruise. He dragged him to the exit, the cars of the ones leaving in their paused and ritualistic dance of waiting. The redhead abandoned without the opportunity of saying goodbye to him.

-This fucking guy, I swear. One more time and I’m going to punch him so hard that his eyes are going to pop out of his sockets. -Later he explained that there was a guy catcalling him since the gala started, but Allen never saw him. -I’m going to ask Junior for something and then we’ll go. Wait right here and don’t move. -

He obeyed as always but the moment he left and Lavi was also gone, _**H**_ _ **e**_ appeared. Like demons or ghosts use to in every horror story. At the first moment he was alone.

Cross was dressed according the event making him more afraid of his connections than ever. Behind him, three obviously rich women waited for him to finish his conversation and Allen felt his soul evaporate as the man hugged him in that way that brought back his sweet sixteen that were more sour than sweet.

-Pretty thing, why did you run away? You made your father sad. Do you know that? -A voice husk and dark. Slow with smoke and wine.

  
  


“ _Do you?_ _”_ At the present he rested his back against that hidden wall and closed his eyes trying to kick out away the image of the man who raised him. Trying to forget the way he called him. To ignore the phantom touch of his hand over his face, now numb with the freezing cold.

-I have to go back with Yuu… -The air around his voice making small warm clouds. -Everything is fine. I just need to get back. -Verbal spell to help him feel safer.

Allen hands were shaking, but he dedicated less than a glance to them. Contempt against himself getting stored in the infinite shelves of his self-worth; another volume in that huge library that he was more than used to visit at least once a day. A note under every review that said something negative about him by himself.

  
  


-I’m back. -He said without much intention to what he expected to be an empty room. He didn’t even raise his sight from his phone as he locked back the door, his subconscious waiting for his cat’s welcome more than his boyfriend’s. An absent click of the lights as they turned on and...

-Happy birthday, Allen! -

He was lucky that his years of counting every single cent that ended up his way helped him take special care of his things, because otherwise, the phone he was holding would’ve ended up crashing against the floor. Instead, he pushed it against his chest once again, trying to give it more support as he jumped one step back against the entrance; the urgent beating of his heart giving a back-flip to greet those cheerful voices.

-I’m sorry! We scared you! -Lenalee got closer, little jumps towards him till she reached his side. -Oww, but weren’t you surprised? -

-Yeah… Yeah, uhm...Lena? -She was hugging him and even when he was already used to _her_ displays of affection he tried to get away from it awkwardly. It was just too… _strange. Too…_ sudden.

_-_ _Mh_? -Her dark eyes where sparkling with excitement, even among the dark circles that her makeup tried to cover.

-What is this? -The smile he offered was half an apology and half a confession of his growing uneasiness. His friend was starting to pinch his cheeks, pulling them to squeeze them after.

-A surprise party! I know you don’t like your birthday much but I talked with Kanda and… -She was wearing a pretty winter skirt made of wool. Checkered in pink stripes that had four different tones that varied from cream to burgundy. A rose pink belt marked her waist and a turtle neck pale sweater was her top of choice. She had twin buns over her pigtails and Allen got distracted with them until he heard the name of his lover.

-Kanda? -The idea that his boyfriend would do something so sweet making something inside him flutter, lost in the dark. Was it good? He felt his abused cheeks warm a little, but afraid of disappointment he held back tight over his emotions. Like a leashed puppy, they were too eager to go out to take a walk. What if they were ran over? Could he bear to see their death happen? It was dangerous out there.

-Yes! And he said it was ok if we threw you a little party. -Lenalee loved Allen more than like a best friend. She usually thought of him as a little sister, as he was way smarter and cuter than Lavi, who she considered her younger brother. As for her a sister was better than a brother. Already having two with Komui and Lavi. Two dumb pieces of whole brotherhood.

Lena waited for his reaction and entertained herself petting his cold hair, wondering if he was again wandering lost around the place before he arrived. A worrisome frown over her pretty face.

“ _Oh.”_ There it was. He lessened the grasp but closed the door inside his soul. No more walking for that little pup.

Allen looked for the man with whom he shared a bed over his friend and quickly spotted him with crossed arms near the table. He found his dark eyes that didn’t held his stare for more than five seconds, turning away with a characteristic clicking of his tongue that he didn’t need to listen to know how it was. On the table a cake that he recognized, even from that far, as a Christmas cake. There were matches instead of candles and as he looked from a place to the other he realized that it was probably something that was put together at the last moment. He didn’t really minded, after all, he wasn’t even expecting to celebrate his “ _birthday”._ But details were details and his hard lessons following Cross’ orders had taught him to always keep an eye on the small things.

He held his friend’s hands and gave her what his boss would call “ _the professional_ _smile_ _”_ back, softening his eyes as he spoke.

-Thank you, you didn’t have to. -

“ _You shouldn’t_ _have_ _. This...”_

_-_ What do you mean? Of course I _**had**_ to, Allen. You are my friend. I _want_ you to be happy. -It was strange seeing Lenalee serious. Usually, with her cheerful personality and her loving smile she always seemed younger; but as the lines in her face moved, he recognized the year gap that existed between them. An honest concern for his happiness that even when he appreciated hurt him. He didn’t want to be a burden. He never wanted to worry her. She deserved better. -You took a lot of time to come back. Did you get lost? -

Her tone was patient and loving and Allen felt again the knot inside his throat tightening. Of course she thought that.

-A little. -What was he supposed to say? That he strayed away from his usual path because the fear of seeing his stepfather again consumed him? That he got lost in the memory of the last time? No. She had enough. She already did enough being his friend. And there was no other way around it. She _knew_ about Cross. So even mentioning it was out of the question.

-I called Bak but he was busy with something in the museum. I’m sorry. -The girl was playing with a button that threatened to commit suicide with a little more abuse in his coat. -But I told him to buy you something pretty! -

Allen knew about Bak’s crush with Lenalee and smiled thinking in how he managed not to collapse while taking that call. Behind her, Yuu’s voice called for him reminding him also that the blond and his boyfriend couldn’t see each other either and probably that was the main reason why Bak refused to visit. But he couldn’t blame him.

After all, Kanda was _something else._

-Beansprout, you took too long. Komui is already sleep. -Lenalee turned immediately to see her brother comfortably sleeping at the table. His head close to the cake and his glasses crooked. She puffed her cheeks and then sighed, knowing that Komui usually worked until late at night only to wake up when it was still dark in the morning.

-Brother… -She turned to address the tallest an apology in her eyes that Yuu avoided by looking at a point over Allen’s head. -Can we have some cake and then leave? I don’t want to bother, but I promised him he would get cake and… -

-Cakeeeee… -The man mumbled with a dumb smile in plastered in his face. Still asleep.

Yuu then lowered his stare to actually seeing Allen, that faint consideration for his answer enough to make him smile.

“ _He loves me. He cares.”_

-Sure Lena, I don’t mind. -Allen addressed, answering to her and reluctantly abandoning his stare.

-Thank you. We brought you a present, each. Bak said he would send his too, but since is Christmas I think you’ll have to wait until tomorrow. -He assured again that it was no problem and she hugged him once more. -I’ll wake my brother. -

They looked at her walk to his side, shaking him gently as she tried to bring him back from his slumber. Now, Kanda’s arm was over Allen’s head, a slight flex that could push him against the door with no effort. Something that he noticed when his boyfriend turned to face him again.

-Where were you? -His voice was low but harsh and the silver haired went again to clench the strap of his bag, that still crossed over his chest. The sensation of bliss destroyed with the alarm of being a _bad_ _dog_ _._

-I turned in a wrong corner. Did I make you wait? I’m sorry… -He really was. It didn’t matter that he got packed up with his own memories and arrived late. Yuu didn’t _deserve_ having to wait for him. Specially when he went out of his way to buy him something. Allen didn’t want him to be angry with him and he tried to touch him in a way to demonstrate his repent. His hand was caught mid way in a rough but flying movement and Yuu pressed his thumb against his palm knowing it made him feel vulnerable. The faint memory of something else there.

-You can make it up to me. -A glance with a hunter intent that he refused, blushing in a way that hurt his face with a burning sensation right under his nose. The salt of crying climbing through it. What did he mean?

“ _I think you know.”_

-Lenalee is calling me. -He muttered, moving past him with a soft, almost invisible whisper.

  
  


- _Allen. -_ Gray against black. The pronunciation of his name had an invisible price tag with it and he waited for the quantity to be named as he was once again cornered against the wall that was close to their room.

-Yes? -Disposition. Service. First lesson at the worst high school of the world. Cross’. Allen knew what he wanted but…

-About that cake, I didn’t know that in Christmas they don’t make birthday ones. -It wasn’t an apology and he let him got closer ignoring that he admitted buying it at the last moment. It didn’t matter. He did it and that was _enough._

“ _Is it? I guess you’re right. Is not that you deserved it. At least he got you something.”_

Lenalee gave him a set of bath bombs that were obviously expensive claiming that he needed to take care of himself, while his brother chose a safe, black and over sized hoodie that was so comfortable he loved it the moment he touched it. He liked them both very much and was grateful, but couldn’t help but compare them to the brush that Yuu gave him.

A brush that actually… was a cat brush.

It was useful, he would give him that. However it was more a present for Timcanpy than for himself.

“ _Are you in a place where you can complain? As far as I know, it’s nobody’s obligation to gift you anything._ _Is it a nice present. You brought the cat and you didn’t have a brush for him so...He gave you one. Don’t be ungrateful._ _”_ The voice in his mind was right and he knew it, yet he moved his head a little to the side when Yuu got close enough to kiss him. He loved him but he was just not in the mood to gave him what he was asking for.

-It’s fine. You did something for me and I love that. -It was not everyday that he was rewarded with such gesture and planned or not he liked the idea that he took the time to do something for him.

-About that… -His hand was cold and Allen gasped, feeling how he pressed it against his skin to slithered down the back of his pants. -I think you owe me an apology. -

-I have to put what’s left in the fridge. -The words came out strangled, but Kanda didn’t seem to pay attention to it. The silver haired had his hand against his shoulder and pushed lightly to create a space that he didn’t allow.

“ _Apologize, brat.”_ The voice of his stepdad had a perfect echo inside the chambers of his brain and Allen felt so tired that his response to crisis was starting to emerge. A contracted pulse at the end of his nerves that augmented with the ticking of the clock that chased him from his work place in a ghostly way. How strange were the thoughts that haunted him when that little thing inside him started to break through!

-You can do that later. -Yuu squeezed his face with one hand forcing him to look back at his him and Allen swallowed, a sinking feeling in his stomach that he always associated with being nervous. It was similar to hunger but it dived back from the tallest part of his throat into his organs barely touching anything but the roof of his mouth. There it bubbled; acidic spheres of air that burst silently and lazily, leaving him with an emptiness that reminded him of sleeping only thirty minutes, after pulling an all-nighter. Swallowing became impossible and he heard his own breathing too loud and too uncomfortable to ignore. He recognized it with rose tainted glasses as the feeling of facing new _exhilarating_ things and it wouldn’t be until years had passed that he would realize that it was dread and not an excited awaiting for the unknown.

“ _Just let him be. It shouldn't be difficult for you. I mean, don’t you love him?”_

Two consecutive beatings of his heart as he was starting to surrender. He did. Yuu was his _boyfriend_ , not some _stranger_ twice his age that would call him some unknown name as he was facing the other way trying to think in anything but that. And he _loved_ him. And he did _that_ for him. He _at least_ owed him that.

“ _It will be quick if you’re good. You know that.”_

-I don’t want to waste it… -Then why was he pulling away? Why was he still making up excuses? Were those actually excuses? He didn’t want to waste the cake. He hated wasting food and...

“ _You’re making this harder than it has to be, kid. Don’t be like that. Don’t be rude to the gentleman.”_ Kanda’s answer never arrived as the door opened startling both.

- _Darling!_ I’m home! -A redhead that both knew well appeared with a small brown bag; oily stains decorating it and evidencing its content. -Great! There’s still cake! -

Lavi was panting slightly, closing the door behind him while smiling; a little snow dusting the floor as he moved and his coat shook.

- _What_ are you doing here? -The japanese had again his arms crossed over his chest and Allen looked at him waiting for any instruction with a poker face in place that was borderline disinterested; his boyfriend ignoring him to talk with his friend.

-What? Well it’s the beansprout’s birthday! Isn’t it? -The coat was tossed over a chair and Kanda rolled his eyes annoyed. That day wasn’t going as he planned. First he forgot the damn birthday and together with that the cake and the present. Then, while he meditated calling it off since Allen wasn’t into it to start with, he realized that Lenalee would’ve never forgive him, and at the last moment had to fix everything with the little resources he could get. In the way he had encountered Junior, but he never thought he would be interested in actually arriving to his place after he told him that that year he couldn’t spend time with him, Marie and Tiedoll as he usually did. (Not that he minded, of course.) And now that he was about to get _something_ from that tiresome day, he was interrupted by no other but the most annoying person he knew. The same man that he thought he got rid off just a few hours before. Could that day get worse?

-Whatever. Kick him out whenever you want. I’m going to… -The black haired man looked back at his friend as if he listed the reasons why he wouldn’t be staying with both of them so late and sighed. -...to shower. I’ll be going to bed after so, take care of him. -

The door of their room barely made a click less than ten minutes later, lights off and not a single sound inside.

  
  


-What’s in the bag? -Lavi smiled excited. He enjoyed passing time with Allen, no matter how short or long it was.

-Open it, beansprout. -The brown bag sat in the middle of the table, waiting with its delicious secret inside. It was pushed closer to the shortest who first gifted him with a killer look that took the wrong turn into one of the strange satisfactions he didn’t know he had.

-I _swear_. If you call me “ _beansprout”_ **one more time** I’m going to **hit you,** _jackass_. -It was passing twelve and the charm ran out. His usually polite manners completely forgotten as he talked to Lavi. Impossible to refrain.

- _Really_? -A smile that was a challenge.

- **Really.** -A response that had an honest warning flag.

-You _promise_? -The tone in Lavi’s voice was something between a verbal pout and a childish wish to push boundaries and the silver haired shrugged, standing up a little to reach the bag that his arms couldn’t get.

-Sure. -

-Fine. But I must warn you. I might _like it._ -Faster than him the redhead pulled back the bag making him stop with his hand still extended.

“ _Oh, he wants to play?”_ True excitement that knocked at the door without him recognizing it.

-Try me. I dare you. -Both hands in the table and a smirk that he never knew where it came; but had the colors of a defiant player.

- _B e a n s p r o u t._ -Slowly said. Each letter separately. Annoyingly, infuriating, teasingly, _provocative_. But at least it wasn’t his name. -What are you going to do, _Allen?_ -

“ _He did it_ _ **again.”**_

_-Don’t call me that._ -He was talking about his name, but Lavi didn’t need to know that. The way he said it enough to confuse everything inside himself.  He tried to be upset with Lavi, but the smile was still there. So undomesticated, that every time he tried to erase it, it would pull away stranding his cheeks again.

-Why not,  _Beansprout?_ Tho, I must say I  _do_ prefer  _Allen._ It has a prettier  _ring_ to it. Don’t you think?  _-_ If it wasn’t a promise perhaps he wouldn’t have done it, but he was a man of his word. He raised his hand but before he could slap his shoulder Lavi held him by the wrist. The same that he touched that day back at the gala. The same patch of skin that remained tickling two days later making him think he had an allergy, making him touch it over again and again for some strange reason.  By  some weird spell. 

It was the speed of the action and the response to it. A third law that tied the things in the known universe demanding being fulfilled. Allen found himself sitting at the tallest lap, if it was just for an accident that… wasn’t that unfortunate.

-Because I hate it. -He whispered, letting the redhead held his hand to give him balance in a charming gesture that punched the oxygen out from his brain. Both lost in the other, making the shortest wonder about the patch again.

-Understandable. -He said back. Feeling him _horribly_ close. Allen touched his chest with his right, a crunching sound that surprised both, pulling them out of their trance with each other. -Oh right! I also brought you a present! But is really small, I didn’t know it was your birthday. I’m sorry. -

Lavi searched inside his jacket, the inner pocket guarding a small package in a sparkling purple wrapping. His voice was a sheepish apology that made Allen think briefly in giving him a kiss; the thought tossed into his mental trash can immediately after. Calling it an aftermath of his past.

-A present! -Instead of jumping out of his seat, he got more comfortable, taking the piece away from Lavi’s hands. Junior observed him, swallowing the itching to hug him by that slim and dangerous waist that was tempting him with the closeness.

-Is not a big deal, really. I promise I’ll get you something better as soon as the stores are open, ok? -The wrapping was teared apart  carefully and Lavi’s heart bounced around his body, getting lost in a mad beat that followed a concert of a secret happiness with slight  drops of alarm as Yuu was only a room away. 

“ _You ain’t doing anything. He is just seating there, you are just giving him a present. Nothing is happening. It isn’t like you like him or anything.”_

Allen touched the soft fabric and picked up the object from the table. His slender fingers following the circle with the fascination of a child.

-It’s a scrunchie! -Lavi laughed at his  victorious  excitement wondering how he could like such a little and useless thing. -It’s really  cute Lavi. Thank you. -

It was gray with black stars and crosses. A black lace with tiny flowers on one side. A ten pointed star with black enamel suspended with a delicate white thread that would probably look amazing in someone with enough hair for a  low  ponytail at least. Still, it was something pretty and Allen put his hand through it, letting it rest over his wrist as if it was a bracelet. He shook his hand, happily noticing how the silky fabric caressed his skin and the cool medallion touched it now and then. If he just didn’t had to use gloves all the time… If it wasn’t for his  _horrible_ left hand, he would... 

-I know that you have short hair but… It was the prettiest thing I saw and I thought about you. I arrived late because I tried every single store. It’s not much but… -The redhead started explaining himself in a regretting tone that estranged him.

-Every store? - He turned to face him. His green eye sparkling with something he couldn’t identify. Wasn’t he handsome? Being so close just let Allen think of how much he looked like a piece of art. How could someone like that waste his time looking for something for him? He didn’t deserve that. Why was he so nice? 

-Yeah, I’ve also found that place you mentioned? So I brought a bag of dangos too, since you said it was your favorite thing. Luckily they don’t seem to close on Christmas. - Lavi felt an urge that he knew well but he pushed it aside, trying to concentrate in the pureness of those pink and soft cheeks that got rose the moment he heard the word.

-You remembered? But… that was  _months_ ago! - His eyes were so shiny! So adorable!

“ _Oh Allen, if you knew what I can remember! If it’s about you...”_ A thought immediately cut by another. “ _Are you sure you want to keep with that train of thought?”_

-Seriously? I don’t know. I have good memory I guess. - Not that he would tell, but he was a pretty good liar himself. 

-It’s really sweet, Lavi. - Allen touched his chest where his shirt exposed his skin, making  electricity run through it.  His hand was warm and the redhead felt his lips warming too, asking a question he never wanted to answer. Yet, he refused to take his hand away.

“ _Who was it that pulled the trigger? Was it you or I?”_

-So, do you forgive me now for calling you beansprout, beansprout? - He rested his face in one hand while the other remained pinching the fabric of his pants, afraid that if he didn’t keep them busy he would’ve ended touching Allen’s waist just like he wanted.

- _Shut up_ . Of course no. - The silver haired slapped him playfully on the cheek, a gesture that sounded louder than it actually was. The sensation of the impact barely a tickling feeling that he unfortunately enjoyed.

- Mh, yes!  _Harder_ . - Lavi arched his eyebrows in a flirt that was half a joke and two other impossible halves true. 

- _Ew!_ You’re a jerk! - His laugh sounded louder than he intended and Allen ended up covering his mouth afraid of waking up Yuu. Standing up as the possibility of a misunderstanding graced his mind. 

“ _Now you think that’s kinky? If he knew what kind of person you are...”_

-Give me a hug. - The redhead opened his arms wide,  missing him he moment he parted, wondering if a kiss on the cheek was already too much to ask and deciding that… it was. Almost an illegal thought actually. What was wrong with him lately?  -This jerk wants a Christmas hug. - 

“ _Why you acting dumb?”_ The accusation from inside his mind. He sighed, regaining control of himself as he held Allen tightly. Something that he would discover later was a Christmas gift on its own, as the shortest didn’t enjoyed much giving hugs. Making for him an exception. 

-I have to go Allen. Be nice for me, would ya’? -

-Never. - Five steps apart. A mocking tongue that was an unintended provocation that made the other smile. 

-Just like I like it. - He sent him a kiss. The line of playing a joke and exposing himself as a blatant asshole that wanted to date his mate’s significant other disappearing at an alarming rate.

-Go away, dork. It’s late for you to be awake, your brain is starting  rot . - They walked to the door and Lavi was munching over a dango that Allen agreed to share with him as a treat.

-You too.  K ids that stay up late never grow up. - It was just too fun. He never wanted it to stop. 

-Take care. - Allen smiled tenderly and without knowing held the same wish as the tallest. For that game to never end.

- _Aw_ , you  **do** care. - Fake  condescending cooing that even when he acted upset, only made him wanted to laugh.

- _Ugh, never mind_ . - Rolling his eyes was by then something that he associated with him.  Not without a fleeting floating feeling under his feet,  of course .  Maybe it was that he was too friendly. 

-Happy birthday, Allen. - Suddenly a softer, honest tone. Something that he wanted to treasure as a marker in that library of self loa thing. A little sparkling light for him to not succumb to the dark of his usual misery. 

-Thank you. -From the inside, the silver haired showed the scrunchie. Shaking it again as a soft bracelet, with a true smile still over his lips. -I’ll keep it safe until you get me a better gift. -

-I was the gift. - Lavi gestured dramatically and Allen blew some hairs away of his forehead as he looked to  the  left, trying to contain his laugh. 

-A  _better_ gift I said. Now leave, it almost seems like you don’t want to. - The door was almost closed, resting against Allen chest. Making him look like a cat that was caught half into his escape. 

“ _I don’t want to leave. I don’t know what to do.”_ The tallest thought.

-Nah, you wish. Goodnight, pretty face. -Lavi waved at him, looking back over his shoulder. If only to see his eyes one more time before he left.

-Good night, dumb rabbit. -

The door got closed and as he sighed and the silence regained control of the place, a loud thought that carried the guilt he had been pushing away came back with doubled force. Bringing Yuu to his ungrateful attitude of slipping away his request.

“ _It’s your fault. You put icing on top. Now, the boys want a taste of the strawberry shortcake. That’s your bad. How can you tempt them and then refuse and pull away? Brats never get anything good; if only a little fun time that vanishes when is time to pay.”_

  
  


His hands were warmer then, but it didn’t change much of what he felt.

-I thought you were already asleep. -Black, long hair following his movements as a cascade. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and Allen didn’t move as he felt his full weight over him, shifting lightly to find a better place to pin him down.

-I can’t rest with Junior being so loud. -Again, he got closer to his face and Allen refused a kiss as he looked to the window, hoping it wasn’t that obvious.

-I’m a little tired. -Now, a slow rolling up of a fabric that brought his attention back to his face. Yuu was pushing up the scrunchie getting it off his hand even when he closed his fist.

-You’ll sleep better, don’t you think? You usually do after sex. -It required a special kind of strength for him to not look for the thing right away, but Allen supposed it was better if he acted like he didn’t care. The accessory surely had fallen in the middle of his side of the bed and the nightstand. It was just a matter of waiting until the next day to keep it safe. But if he was honest with himself, that kind of thing was starting to rub him the wrong way.

“ _Why? Is only a hair accessory. You can’t even use it.” “Shut up. I don’t care.”_

-You’re a push over, Kanda. -Yuu never heard that voice before and a smile appeared as the moon graced Allen’s face. There was something there, not the kind and patient, _selfless_ man that he started dating that somehow reminded him of someone that he had lost years back; but a little bastard that wanted to start a fight that he was getting excited to respond. How did Allen fight? Did he do as well as in training? Did he had that fierce fire? There was only one way to know.

-Mh? You’re talking back now? What’s next? Are you looking for a fight? -He pushed over his wrists knowing that his instinct would tell him to push him away. It was just the way he was. Allen never wanted to be tied; it was against his nature, he had tried. And in the end, he _was_ a slut… He surely knew a trick or two worth of making him mad.

-Only if you keep trying me this hard. -He opened his legs in a movement that wasn’t an invitation, but a warning. Anything else and he would had the space necessary to kick him in the groin. Yuu know that, because he was the one who taught him how to do it.

But that was fine. If he thought he could battle him, he might as well try.

-I might, _beansprout_. -He pulled his hair forcing to look at him, reminding him why he never kept it long and pulling a moan out of him that was pleasure and pain at the same time and that worked Yuu just in the right way. -But remember, if you push back you’ll start the fight. So if you lose don’t come crying that you can’t take it. **Are we clear**? -

“ _Every single day I dig a grave. Then I sit inside it, wondering if I'll behave. It's a game I play, and I hate to say you're the worst thing and the best thing that's happened to me...”_

_- **Get the fuck off.**_ -There it was. Feral, savage, wild. How delightful Yuu found that! Someone in the same pit that he could fight  against .

“ _To feel alive.”_

- _No. -_ He kissed him and even when Allen  _did_ f ight back, he knew he  would  surrender as he was used to being touched  _exactly_ in that way. 

“ _Pay the price. Love has a price tag, you know how much it’ll cost you. ”_

It was hard but he was right. He ended up sleeping better.

“ _Does it matter? Does it matter? Damage is done.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well if it’s not me, delivering… on time?!  
> I guess that’s the biggest plot twist.  
> This chapter is super long but I couldn’t cut it so, I apologize for the extension.   
> Today I just have notes to clarify:  
> Hope you enjoyed how Allen and Bak met! If you ever wondered what he did in the museum, he is the HR over there. He likes art, which is aside from his main job but well.   
> Here is also the explanation why Yuu and Allen never had a healthy sex relationship and he had to fight and upset him instead of asking normally.   
> I also want to clarify that I do not intend to make this look as r*pe. In the end, Allen accepted, but I also wanted to be clear that he didn’t understand that he had the right to refuse him. Crybaby is a story where he comes from a very troubled past and that certainly damages the perception of situations.   
> Lavi and Allen always flirt since the beginning but for different things never noticed they were flirting… with...each other...Uu  
> About the scrunchie it is actually a DGM piece of merchandise that came out for Hallow!   
> The bath bombs that Lenalee gifted Allen are the ones he used in the regular timeline of Crybaby.   
> There was no man catcalling Allen, it was always Cross, but Kanda tried to keep him away. In his way, he tried to protect him. 
> 
> I think that’s all, hope you enjoyed it! Hopefully, I’ll finish all my assignments soon and I’ll be able to come back to writing. Thank you all for your support, messages, kudos, hits or otherwise. I always cherish them, Please! Let me read what you think. What you liked or how you felt. <3
> 
> Your friend, Noctomata.


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